


Never Let Go

by BuffShipper



Category: Titanic (1997)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Ending, Car Sex, Class Differences, Deleted Scenes, Disasters, Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls, Drinking, Epic Love, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, First Time, Forbidden Love, Historical Figures, Historical References, Hypothermia, Inspired by Real Events, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, Mass Death, Period-Typical Sexism, Pseudo-History, RMS Titanic, Self-Harm, Semi-Adaption, Sex, Smoking, Star-crossed, Suicide Attempt, Titanic References, Tragedy, True Love, semi-novelization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuffShipper/pseuds/BuffShipper
Summary: An extended, 1912 focused semi-novelization of James Cameron's Titanic (1997) with a (happier) ending.
Relationships: Helga Dahl/Fabrizio De Rossi, Jack Dawson & Cora Cartmell, Jack Dawson & Fabrizio De Rossi, Jack Dawson/Rose DeWitt Bukater, Rose DeWitt Bukater & Ruth DeWitt Bukater, Rose DeWitt Bukater & Thomas Andrews, Rose DeWitt Bukater/Caledon Hockley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	1. Southampton

**Southampton, England. Mid-day, Wednesday, April 10th, 1912**

The Royal Mail Ship _Titanic_ was the largest moving man made object in history at the time of her creation, with a length of 882 feet, a height of 175 feet from keel to funnel, and a weight of over 46,0000 tons, complete with 10 decks inuding the officer's quarters and accommodations for over 2000 passengers. 

_Titanic_ was called "The Ship of Dreams"...not that Rose DeWitt Bukater cared.

Pulling up among a small motorcade of touring cars among the swarming crowd of boarding passengers, families, well-wishers, and Southampton citizens, Rose stepped out of her car, aided by a valet, a princess among paupers, clad in a beautiful white and purple dress, a hat shading her immaculately styled red hair and smooth, pale skin.

"I don't see what the fuss is about," Rose said as she coolly appraised the enormous ship with icy blue eyes. "It doesn't look any bigger than the _Mauretania."_

A personal valet opened the door on the other side of the car and her fiancee, Caledon "Cal" Hockley, heir to the elder Hockley's steel mill fortune, stepped out of the car.

"You can be blaise about some things, Rose, but not about _Titanic_ ," Cal chided. "It's over a hundred feet longer than the _Mauretania_ , and far more luxurious."

Cal turned and offers his hand to Rose's mother, Ruth, who descended from the touring car behind them.

"Your daughter is far too hard to impress, Ruth," Cal chuckled.

Ruth gazed up at the massive ship, a bit more impressed with _Titanic_ than Rose was. "So this is the ship they say is unsinkable..."

"It is unsinkable," Cal said proudly. "God himself couldn't sink this ship!"

The entire entourage of the traveling American royalty turns out of the touring cars: Cal's tall and impassive undertaker-like valet, Spicer Lovejoy, and their personal maids: servants to Ruth and Rose.

As they filed out, a White Star Line porter scurried toward them, harried by the last minute loading.

"Sir, you'll have to check your baggage through the main terminal, round that way--"

Cal ignored the porter and nonchalantly handed him five pounds from his wallet.

The porter's eyes widened, excited by the relatively large tip.

"I put my faith in you, my good sir," Cal nodded curtly, and gestured towards Lovejoy. "See my man."

Lovejoy directed the overwhelmed porter to the piles of suitcases and luggage that the maids and servants unloaded from the touring cars.

These Americans did not travel light.

***

Rose looked up as the hull of Titanic looms over them like a great black iron wall. Cal motioned her forward, strutting like a peacock as they enter the gangway to the D Deck doors, followed closely by Ruth and their entourage of servants and maids hauling dozens of bags and luggage.

Outwardly, Rose appeared to be a well brought up, if not spoiled seventeen year-old girl: demure, of regal bearing. Inside however, she was screaming, filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.

"The Ship of Dreams"... to everyone else, perhaps. To Rose, _Titanic_ was a slave ship, taking her back to America in chains.

***

From the window view of a Southampton pub a few blocks away from the dock, the Titanic towered above the terminal buildings like the skyline of a city.

Locked in a tense card game were a couple of drifters, a handsome young American man by the name of Jack Dawson and his partner, an Italian man by the name of Fabrizio De Rossi, against a pair of Swedes named Sven and Olaf.

Fabrizio leaned over to his partner, none too happy. "Jack, you are pazzo! You bet everything we have."

 **"** When you got nothin', you got nothin' to lose," Jack replied, and Fabrizio sat back in his chair, scowling.

Across the table, Olaf was browbeating Sven for much the same thing. Jack didn't know much Swedish, but he did catch the word "moron" in there.

"Moment of truth, boys," Jack said from behind a fan of cards, his intense eyes betraying nothing. "Somebody's life is about to change."

Jack glances at his partner. Fabrizio puts his cards down, as does their Swedish opponents.

"Niente?" Jack asked.

"Niente," Fabrizio confirmed with a scowl.

"Uh oh, two pair..." muttered Jack. "I'm sorry, Fabrizio."

"What sorry?" Fabrizio swore in Italian. "What you got? Jack? You bet all our money--"

"Sorry, you're not gonna see your mother for a long time.." Jack said as he slaps a full house on the table.

Fabrizio shook his head in confusion.

"Cause yer goin' to America! Full house, boys!" Jack pounded on the table in jubilation.

Jack takes his winnings in as Fabrizio celebrates, shouting excitedly in Italian as he showed off the newly won tickets.

Olaf suddenly grabbed Jack by his collar, cocking his large fist back as if to punch him out. Jack braced himself for the blow, but Olaf instead turned his intentions towards his friend Sven, knocking him out and cursing in Swedish at him for losing the tickets to _Titanic_.

"We go to America!" shouted Fabrizio as two resumed their celebration.

"No mate!" the barkeep shouted, pointing towards a clock behind him. " _Titanic_ go to America in five minutes!"

Jack and Fabrizio looked at each other in panic. "Shit!"

The pair heaved their kit bags over their shoulders and scrambled out of the pub, tearing down the streets and into the Southampton port as fast as their legs could take them, whooping and celebrating the whole time. Shouts go up behind them as they jostle slow-moving onlookers. They dodge piles of luggage, and weave through the crowd of people.

The pair finally burst out onto the pier and Jack comes to a dead stop, staring at the cast wall of the _Titanic_ 's hull, towering seven stories above the wharf and over an eighth of a mile long. The _Titanic_ is truly monstrous.

Fabrizio runs back and grabs Jack, and they sprint toward the third class gangway aft, at E deck. They reach the bottom of the ramp just as Sixth Officer Moody detaches it at the top. The ramp starts to swing down from the gangway doors.

"Wait!! We're passengers!" Jack panted as he climbed up the ramp, waving the tickets.

"Have you been through the inspection queue?" Moody questioned, barring them from further entry.

"Of course! Anyway, we don't have lice, we're Americans," Jack lied cheerfully, glancing at Fabrizio. "Both of us."

Moody was testy, but nonetheless lets them on. "Right, come aboard."

Jack and Fabrizio cheered with victory and jubilation as they ran down the white-painted corridor all the way to the aft well deck. They run across the deck and up the steel stairs to the poop deck. They get to the rail, joining the rest of _Titanic_ 's passengers as they yell and wave to the crowd of cheering well-wishers on the dock.

 _Titanic_ gathered speed, and pulled away from the Southampton harbor toward the English Channel, slicing through the water like a giant knife, its enormous bronze propeller blades chopping through the water, hurling the steamer forward, churning up a vortex of foam that trailed behind the juggernaut ship like a meteor tail.

Black smoke spewed from its four tower-like smoke stacks, fed by the tons of coal shoveled into the roaring furnaces by the firemen and stokers deep in the boiler room, powering the enormous, four-story tall twin reciprocating engines that moved the floating city forward to her maiden voyage.

***

Jack and Fabrizio walked down the narrow corridor of the Third Class compartments with doors lining both sides, passing through a scene of total confusion as the Third Class passengers argue over luggage in several languages, or wandering through the labyrinth of corridors. They passed emigrants studying the signs over the doors and looking up the words in phrase books.

Soon, the pair find their berth: a modest cubicle, painted enamel white, with four bunks, exposed pipes on the low overhead ceiling.

Jack threw his kit on one open bunk, while Fabrizio takes the other. Their roommates, another pair of Swedes, looked at each other in shock, wondering where Sven and Olaf were, and who these guys were taking their place.

***

By contrast to Jack and Fabrizio's modest Third Class accommodations, the so-called "Millionaire Suite" of Cal Hockley and the DeWitt Bukater's was in the Empire style, and was comprised of two bedrooms, a bath, wardrobe room, a large sitting room, and even a fifty foot private promenade deck outside.

A room service waiter handed Rose a glass of champagne as she is looking through through new paintings she was unpacking, including a Monet of water lilies, a Degas of dancers, and a few other abstract works.

"Those finger paintings were certainly a waste of money," Cal said lazily, coming out of the promenade deck to lean against the wall of the suite, sipping champagne of his own.

"You're wrong. They're fascinating. Like in a dream... there's truth without logic," Rose replied, not allowing Cal to degrade one of her interests yet again.

Cal snorted.

"What's his name again... ?" Rose muttered, reading off the canvas of the painting. "Something Picasso."

"Something Picasso," Cal repeated, coming into the sitting room. "He'll never amount to a thing, trust me. "

Rose ignored him as she continued to hang up the paintings, setting down the barely touched champagne.

"At least they were cheap," Cal muttered, taking another sip of champagne as a porter wheeled Cal's private safe into the room on a handtruck, which Cal instructed was to be placed in the wardrobe.

Rose entered the bedroom with the large Degas of the dancers. She set the painting on the dresser, near the canopy bed. Trudy, her maid, was already in the stateroom, hanging up some of Rose's clothes in the wardrobe.

"It smells so brand new!" Trudy exclaimed in wonder. "Like they built it all just for us. I mean... just to think that tonight, when I crawl between the sheets, I'll be the first--"

Cal appeared suddenly in the doorway of the bedroom, still nursing his champagne.

Cal stared at Rose from under his brows, his lips at the rim of the glass. "And when _I_ crawl between the sheets tonight, _I'll_ still be the first."

Trudy's eyes widened and she blushed at the innuendo. She hastily excused herself, leaving the two alone.

Cal then came up behind Rose and put his hands on her shoulders: an act of possession, not intimacy. Rose shivered at his touch.

"The first and only," Cal murmured to an increasingly uncomfortable Rose. "Forever."


	2. First Sight

**_RMS Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean. Friday, April 12th, 1912. Early Afternoon.**

On Thursday, April 11th, _Titanic_ stopped at Cherbourg, France, disembarking several passengers and loading more before making a second trip to Queenstown, Ireland, her final stop before embarking on the six day trip to New York.

The most notable of these passengers was a Molly Brown, an outspoken woman whose husband had struck gold out in the western United States, making her "new money", according to her fellow passengers traveling First Class.

The next afternoon, Molly joined Cal Hockley and the DeWitt Bukaters for a lunch in _Titanic'_ s sunny Palm Court Restaurant, and were seated with the famed Irish shipbuilder Thomas Andrews, of Harland & Wolfe Shipbuilders, and J. Bruce Ismay, the Managing Director of White Star Line: effectively the _owners_ of _Titanic_.

Ismay, a proud looking man with a large moustache, was talking up _Titanic_ and its architect, indicating Andrews, who appeared rather uncomfortable at being the center of attention, living up to his modest reputation.

"Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's." Andrews explained, deflecting the attention away from himself. "He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged."

Andrews paused for effect, watching the reactions of the others at the table.

"And here she is..." Andrews concluded, slapping the table proudly. "...willed into solid reality."

As a waiter arrived to take orders, Rose lit a cigarette at the end of a long holder.

Ruth glared at her daughter. "You know I don't like that, Rose."

Rose blew a puff of smoke in her face, much to Ruth's irritation.

"She knows," Cal growled, taking the cigarette out of the holder and stubbing it out in an ashtray.

A waiter came for the order, and Cal ordered a rare lamb with a little mint sauce for Rose and himself.

"You like lamb, don't you sweetpea?" Cal asked Rose as the waiter jotted the order down before moving on to the rest of the table.

Rose offered her fiancee the most sarcastically sweet smile she could manage in response.

"So, you gonna cut her meat for her too there, Cal?" Molly teased before turning to Ismay. "Hey, who came up with the name _Titanic_? Was it you, Bruce?"

"Yes, actually," Ismay replied arrogantly. "I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability, luxury... and safety--"

"Do you know of Dr. Freud?" Rose interrupted. "His ideas about the male preoccupation with _size_ might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ismay."

Andrews nearly choked on the breadstick he was eating, suppressing laughter.

"My God, Rose, what's gotten into you?" hissed Ruth, shocked at her daughter's boldness.

Rose shot up from her seat. "Excuse me."

Rose stalked away to the shock of the table, Ruth in particular. 

"I do apologize," Ruth said, mortified.

Molly however, was quite amused. "She's a pistol, Cal. You sure you can handle her?"

"Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on," Cal replied, his anger at Rose's outburst barely suppressed.

"Freud...who is he, a passenger?" Ismay inquired.

***

Jack sat on a bench in the noontime sun with his knees pulled up, drawing in a sketchbook with a conte crayon, his most valuable possession. He's drawing a father holding his young daughter as they gaze out into the ocean.

Watching Jack draw was his friend Fabrizio and a scowling young Irish emigrant named Tommy Ryan that they met in steerage, who was smoking a cigarette.

Fabrizio looks over Jack's shoulder. He nods appreciatively. Jack is good. Really good. Jack's sketch captures the father/daughter pair perfectly, with a great sense of the humanity of the moment. 

A crewmember cut by, walking three small dogs around the deck. One of the dogs, a French black bulldog, stops and squats over by a nearby pole. 

"That's typical," Tommy scowled as he watched the dog scamper away after relieving itself. "First class dogs come down here to take a shite.'

"That's so we know where we rank in the scheme of things," grinned Jack, looking up from his sketch.

Tommy took a puff of his cigarette. "Like we could forget."

Jack was about to respond, but the sight of a beautiful young woman wearing a long yellow dress and white gloves at the aft railing of B deck caught his eye.

Jack found himself unable to take his eyes off of her. They were across from each other, about sixty feet apart, with the well deck like a valley between them. The woman stared off into the water, deep in thought, like a redheaded Rapunzel high up in her tower.

Jack watched her unpin her elaborate hat and take it off. The woman looked at the frilly absurd thing, and then tossed it over the rail. The hat sailed far down to the water and was carried away, astern, a spot of yellow in the vast ocean. Jack was simply _riveted_ by her. She looked like a figure in a romantic novel, so sad and isolated.

Fabrizio tapped Tommy on the shoulder and they both looked on in amusement at Jack as he stared transfixed at the woman. 

The woman turned suddenly and looked right at Jack. He was caught staring, but he doesn't look away. She did, but then looked back. Their eyes meet across the space of the well deck, across the gulf between worlds.

A man came up behind her and took her arm. The woman angrily jerked her arm away. The man and young woman man argued, their shouting too far away to hear. The woman stormed away, and the man then hurried after her until the pair crossed along the A-deck promenade. Jack stared after them until they both disappeared from view.

"Forget it, boyo," chuckled Tommy. "You'd as like have angels fly out o' yer arse as get next to the likes o' her!"

Fabrizio jabbed Jack playfully in the arm, and the three went back to their conversation, the woman forgotten by all except for Jack, stuck in his head like a favorite song.

***

Rose sat for dinner in the First Class dining saloon, flanked by people in heated conversation, barely listening to the inconsequential babble around her.

She saw her whole life as if she'd already lived it, an endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches. Always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. She felt like she was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull her back, no one who cared, or even noticed.

She stared at her plate, jamming a fork from her crab salad into the skin of her arm, harder and harder until it draws blood....

Rose walked along the corridor, excusing herself after dinner. A steward coming the other way greeted her, and she nodded with a slight smile. She is perfectly composed.

Rose entered her suite, and stood in the middle of the room, staring at her reflection in the large vanity mirror. 

With a primal, anguished cry, Rose clawed at her throat, ripping off her pearl necklace, which exploded across the room. In a frenzy Rose tore at herself, her clothes and hair.

She took her frustrated rage to the room, flinging everything off her dresser. She hurled a handmirror against the vanity, cracking it.

She stared at her broken reflection, Shaking with emotions she doesn't understand... hatred, self-hatred, desperation. She tore out of the room and into the night, desperate to end it all.

***

Jack lay on the bench in the cool night air, just as he had done just about every night since he could remember. He took a puff of his cigarette and thought of the beautiful redheaded woman, of how she looked at him, not once but twice.

Something about her captured his imagination, and he chided himself for even humoring any possibility of seeing her ever again.

He sighed, and blew another puff of smoke into the night.

Suddenly, Jack heard something, and turned just as Rose ran up the stairs from the well deck. Jack stared dumbfounded as Rose ran past him, the woman he saw, who was unaware he had been laying on the shadow-obscured bench.

Rose ran across the deserted fantail, her breath hitching in an occasional sob, which she fought to suppress. She slammed against the base of the stern flagpole and clinged there, panting. She stared out at the black water, making her choice.

Rose started to clumsily climb over the railing, having to hitch her long dress way up. Moving methodically, Rose turns her body and gets her heels on the white-painted gunwale with her back to the railing, facing out toward blackness. Sixty feet below her, _Titanic's_ massive propellers were churning the Atlantic into white foam, a ghostly wake trailing off toward the dark horizon.

She leaned out, her arms straightening, looking down hypnotized, into the vortex below her. Her dress and hair were lifted by the wind of the ship's movement. The only sound, above the rush of water below, was the flutter and snap of the big Union Jack right above her

 _"Don't do it,"_ Jack begged, slowly stepping into view, lit by the pole-mounted light.

Rose whipped her head around at the sound of his voice, her eyes It taking a second to focus from the tears and the dim light.

"Stay back!" Rose warned. "Don't come any closer!"

As he stopped his approach, Jack sees the tear tracks on her cheeks in the faint glow from the light. Her desperation pulled at his conscience.

"Take my hand. I'll pull you back in," offered Jack.

"No! Stay where you are," Rose warned again. "I mean it! I'll let go!"

"No you won't," Jack replied.

"What do you mean no I won't?" Rose snapped, tired of being patronized by yet another _man_ , and now a Third Class _man_ at that. "Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do! You don't know me!"

"You would have done it already," Jack replied softly. "Now come on, take my hand."

"You're distracting me," Rose growled. "Go away!"

"I can't," Jack shook his head, pulling off his jacket. "I'm too involved now. If you let go, I'll have to jump in after you."

"Don't be absurd," Rose was surprised by his daring and apparent selflessness. "You'll be killed."

"I'm a good swimmer," Jack said as he knelt down to untie his left shoe.

"The fall alone would kill you," Rose reasoned.

"It would hurt. I'm not saying it wouldn't. To be honest I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold," Jack agreed.

Rose looked down at the icy white foam the ship left in its wake. The reality of what she is doing is beginning to sinking in.

She swallowed. "How cold?"

"Freezing," Jack guessed, as he pulled his left shoe off. "Maybe a couple degrees over."

"Ever been to Wisconsin?" Jack asked suddenly as he set about untying his right shoe. 

"No," Rose replied, perplexed by why he would be asking her such a stupid question.

"Well they have some of the coldest winters around, and I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls," Jack explained. "Once when I was a kid me and my father were ice-fishing out on Lake Wissota... ice-fishing's where you chop a hole in the--"

"I know what ice fishing is!" snapped Rose, just wanting him to get to the point.

"Sorry. Just... you look like kind of an indoor girl," Jack replied, eying her up and down. "Anyway, I went through some thin ice and I'm tellin' ya, water _that_ cold... like that right down there... it hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think... least not about anything but the pain."

Jack pulled off his other shoe before continuing. "Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said, I don't see a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here."

"You're crazy," Rose retorted.

Jack leaned in as close to her as he dared. "That's what everybody says. But with all due respect, _I'm_ not the one hanging off the back of a ship here."

Jack slid a step closer, as if he was moving up on a spooked horse. He was close enough to grab her now if he wanted to, but something told him that it had to be her choice, and her choice alone. But damned if he wasn't going to try reaching out first.

"Come on," Jack implored. "You don't want to do this. Give me your hand."

"Alright," Rose is convinced, and she unfastened one hand from the rail and reached it around toward him. Jack reaches out to take her hand, firmly.

She stares into his eyes, intense, yet...soft. Genuine. They pierce her soul.

"Whew," smiled Jack. "I'm Jack Dawson."

"Rose DeWitt Bukater," Rose replied, voice quivering. 

"I'm gonna have to get you to write that one down," Jack quipped.

Rose laughed, relieved.

Now that Rose has decided to live, the height is terrifying. She is overcome by vertigo as she shifts her footing, turning to face the ship. As she started to climb, her dress gets in the way, and one foot slips off the edge of the deck.

Suddenly, Rose plunged, and let out a piercing shriek. Jack managed to keep a tight grip on her hand, but is jerked toward the rail. Rose barely grabbed a lower rail with her free hand to keep from falling further.

"HELP!!!! HELP ME!!!" Rose shrieked as she dangled off the stern, with only Jack and a tenuous grip on the railing keeping her from falling to her death in the North Atlantic.

"I've got you!" Jack assured as he holds her wrist and hand with all his strength. "I won't let go! Now pull yourself up!"

Rose tried to get some kind of foothold on the smooth hull, but can't get any footing in her dress and evening shoes, and slips back again, shrieking again in terror.

Jack, awkwardly clutching Rose by whatever he can get a grip on as she flails, finally gets her over the railing.

The pair fell together onto the deck in a tangled heap, spinning in such a way that Jack winds up on top of her.

They barely have time to process the adrenaline before a crewman, Quartermaster Rowe, showed up.

"Here, what's all this?" Rowe asked accusingly. 

Rowe ran up and pulled Jack off of Rose, revealing her dishevelled and sobbing on the deck. Her dress is torn, and the hem is pushing up above her knees, showing one ripped stocking.

Rowe looked at Jack, the young steerage man with his jacket off, and the First Class lady clearly in distress, and starts drawing conclusions as two seamen arrive from across the deck to join them.

"Here you, stand back! Don't move an inch!" Rowe angrily ordered Jack before turning to the seamen. "Fetch the Master at Arms."

***

"What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancee?!" demanded Cal, getting in Jack's face, the smell of brandy wafting from his breath, with Jack unable to retaliate due to the handcuffs the burly, mustachioed Master at Arms clapped on him.

"Cal," Rose called.

Jack glanced at Rose at the sound of her voice.

Cal grabbed Jack by his shirt collar, jostling him. "Look at me, you filth! What did you think you were doing?!"

"Cal, stop!" Rose called again. "It was an accident!"

Cal was confused. "An accident?!"

"It was... stupid really," Rose explained. "I was leaning over and I slipped."

Rose looked at Jack, getting eye contact. Was she actually helping him?

"I was leaning _way_ over, to see the... ah... um, ah, ah...propellers," Rose spun her fingers in a comical circular motion, as Cal followed its path.

 _"P-propellers_?" muttered Cal.

"And I slipped! And I would have gone overboard..." Rose gestured to Jack. "Mr. Dawson here saved me and he almost went over himself."

"You wanted to see the propellers?" Cal bought into her white lie. "She just wanted to see the propellers!"

Col. Gracie shook his head. "Women and machinery do not mix."

The Master at Arms glared suspiciously at Jack. "Was that the way of it?"

Rose begged him with her eyes not to say what really happened. 

"Uh huh," Jack nodded. "Yeah. That was pretty much it."

Jack chanced another look at Rose. Now they have a secret together.

"Well! The boy's a hero then. Good for you son, well done!" Col. Gracie congratulated before turning to Cal. "So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?"

The Master at Arms uncuffed Jack as Cal got Rose to her feet and moving.

"Let's get you in," Cal said as he vigorously rubbed Rose's arms. "You're freezing!"

"Ah...perhaps a little something for the boy?" Gracie suggested in a low voice as Cal began to leave without a second thought for Jack.

Cal blinked. "Oh, right. Mr. Lovejoy. A twenty should do it."

Rose was incredulous. "Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?"

"Rose is displeased," mulled Cal. "Mmm... what to do? What to do...?"

Cal turned back to Jack, appraising him condescendingly. He thought of Jack as a steerage ruffian: unwashed and ill-mannered.

"I know," Cal finally said. "Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow, to regale our group with your heroic tale?"

Jack glanced at Rose. "Sure. Count me in."

"Good. Settled then, sneered Cal as he turned to go, putting a possessive arm around Rose.

 _"This should be amusing,"_ Cal muttered to Gracie as they walked away.

Lovejoy turned to leave with the his employer and entourage, but Jack whistled sharply to get his attention.

"Can I ,ah, bum a smoke?" Jack asked Lovejoy, who obliged him with a case from his suit jacket.

Lovejoy coolly appraised Jack just as Cal did as the young man reached into the case and slipped a cigarette behind his ear before putting one in his mouth.

"Interesting," Lovejoy pointed at Jack's untied shoelaces. "The young lady slipped so suddenly, yet you had time to remove your jacket _and_ your shoes."

Jack didn't have an answer. Lovejoy snorted and walked away, leaving Jack to the cold night air.

***

Rose undressed for bed, lost in her thoughts, and saw Cal standing in her doorway, reflected in the cracked mirror of her vanity. He came towards her, kneeling beside her as she brushed her hair.

She had a music box playing to calm her nerves, but Cal abruptly closed it, cutting off the lullaby.

"I know you've been melancholy, and I don't pretend to know why," Cal said, unexpectedly tender despite his intrusion.

From behind his back, Cal handed her a large black velvet jewel case. Rose takes the case, numb.

"I intended to save this till the engagement gala next week," Cal explained. "But I thought tonight, perhaps a reminder of my feeling for you..."

Rose slowly opened the box. Inside is a necklace with a heart-shaped blue stone, huge, glittering with innumerable fractals and inner reflections.

Rose was flabbergasted. "My God... Cal. Is it a--"

"Diamond?" Cal replied smugly. "Yes it is. 56 carats to be precise."

Cal took the necklace and places it around her throat.

"It was once worn by Louis XVI," Cal continued. "They call it Le Coeur de la Mer, the--"

"The Heart of the Ocean," Rose murmured. "Cal, it's... it's overwhelming."

Cal gazed at the image of the two of them in the mirror, like a portrait of a prince and princess.

"It's for royalty," Cal stated. "And we _are_ royalty."

Cal's fingers caress her neck and throat, his emotion seemingly unguarded as he is disarmed by Rose's elegance and beauty.

"There's nothing I couldn't give you... There's nothing I'd deny you if you wouldn't deny me," Cal purred into her ear.

Rose's stomach twisted at his words, at the smell of his brandy laced breath and heat at her neck.

"Oh, open your heart to me, Rose..." Cal insisted, a hint of frustration in his voice.

On the surface, the diamond appeared an impressive, invaluable gift, a tangible representation of Cal's feelings for her.

But Rose knew his gift was only to reflect light back onto himself, to illuminate the greatness that was Caledon Hockley, a crown jewel on a trophy wife.

To her, it was a cold stone... a heart of ice.


	3. Boat Walk

**RMS _Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean, Mid-Morning, Saturday, April 13th, 1912**

It was a new day, and Rose DeWitt Bukater felt like she was experiencing the sun for the first time in her life as she walked with purpose down the deck to Third Class.

She unlatched the gate, and the steerage men on the deck stop what they're doing and stare at her. She winked at them as she headed towards her destination.

The Third Class Common Room was the social center of steerage life. It was stark by comparison to the opulence of First Class, but was a loud and boisterous place.

There were mothers with babies, children running and playing between the benches, yelling in several languages and being scolded in several more.

The old women yelled, the men played chess, and the girls did needlepoint and read dime novels.

Amidst this bustle of steerage life, Jack was playing with a five year old girl named Cora, drawing funny faces in his sketchbook as a trio of young boys caused a ruckus around them.

As Jack thought of the troubled First Class girl from the night before, Fabrizio was seeming to have girl troubles of his own as he tried to carry on a conversation with an attractive blonde Norwegian girl named Helga Dahl, who as it turned out, didn't speak a word of English.

Jack chuckled to himself at Fabrizio's animated attempts at communication with the increasingly incredulous Helga, as did their friend Tommy, who was fiddling around with the common room's piano.

Suddenly, Helga's eye was caught by something. Fabrizio looked and did a double take, his jaw dropping. Jack, curious, looked up from playing with Cora to follow their gaze.

A hush falls and activity ceases as Rose entered the Common Room, appearing like a princess among peasants. Rose felt suddenly self-conscious as the steerage passengers stared openly at her, some with resentment, others with awe.

She spotted Jack and gave him a little smile, walking straight to him. He rose to meet her, pleasantly surprised.

"Hello, Jack," Rose greeted.

"Hello again," Jack smiled.

Rose glanced uncomfortably 3at Jack's gawking friends, and the peering eyes around them. "Could I speak to you in private?"

"Uh, yes," Jack nodded, suddenly aware of just how focused everyone was on them. "Of course. After you."

He motioned her ahead and followed. Jack glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised and a wide, boyish grin on his face as he walked out with her, leaving the room in a stunned silence.

***

..."Well, I've been on my own since I was fifteen, since my folks died, and I had no brothers or sisters or close kin in that part of the country, so I lit on out of there and haven't been back since," Jack explained as they strolled around the deck. "You can just call me a tumbleweed blowin' in the wind!"

Rose smiled. She found herself enjoying the sound of his voice, the stories he told.

Jack coughed. "Well. Rose. We walked a mile around this boat deck, chewed over how great the weather's been, and how I grew up but..I reckon that's not why you came to talk to me, is it?"

"Mr. Dawson, I..." Rose began.

"Jack," he gently corrected.

"Jack...I want to thank you for what you did, not just for pulling me back...but for your discretion," Rose replied graciously.

Jack nodded. "You're welcome."

Rose sighed. "Look, I know what you must be thinking, 'Poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery?"'

"No! No, that's not what I was thinking," Jack shook his head. "What I was thinking was, 'What could've happened to this girl to make her think she had no way out?"'

"It was everything. It was my whole world and all the people in it," Rose said as she showed Jack her a large engagement ring. "And the inertia of my life: plunging ahead and me powerless to stop it."

Jack took her hand, examining the ring. "God, look at that thing! You would've gone straight to the bottom."

"Five hundred invitations have gone out...all of Philadelphia's society will be there," Rose explained with growing anxiety. "And all the while I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs and no one even looks up!"

Jack tilted his head curiously. "Do you love him?"

The question caught Rose off guard. "Pardon me?"

"Do you love him?" Jack repeated.

"You're being very rude," Rose replied defensively. "You shouldn't be asking me this!"

"Well, it's a simple question," Jack asked again, bemused. "Do you love the guy or not?"

Rose laughed nervously. "This is not a suitable conversation!"

It was Jack's turn to laugh, not so much nervously, but rather in amusement at her defensiveness. "Why can't you just answer the question?"

Rose threw her hands up in exasperation, walking away and rounding on Jack. "This is absurd! You don't know me and I don't know you and we are not having this conversation at all. You are rude and uncouth and presumptuous."

Jack took the insults with barely contained laughter.

"I'm leaving now," Rose offered her hand for him to shake. "Jack. Mr. Dawson. It's been a pleasure. I sought you out to thank you and I have thanked you--"

"And you've insulted me," Jack interjected.

"Well, you've deserved it!" Rose shot back, still vigorously shaking Jack's hand.

"Right..." Jack chuckled.

"Right!" Rose agreed, not letting go of Jack's hand.

Jack grinned as the handshake continued. "I thought you were leaving."

Rose let go of his hand. "Oh. I am!"

She started to walk away but stopped short and turned to face him again. "You are so annoying!"

Jack laughed, and Rose continued to walk away.

"Wait! Rose turned to face him yet again. "I don't have to leave! This is _my_ part of the ship! _You_ leave!"

Rose pointed to the Third Class section of the ship.

Jack leaned against the sail cable rigging. "Oh ho! Well well well! Now whose being rude?"

Rose laughed and snatched Jack's sketchbook from under his arm.

"What is this stupid thing you're carrying around?" she growled, opening it.

Rose looked from Jack to the sketchbook as she flipped through the book. "So what are you, an artist or something?"

Jack nodded patiently.

Rose continued to glance from Jack to the sketchbook as she backed away and sat down on a deck chair, absorbed in the artwork. "Well, uh, these are rather good." 

Jack sat down on a deck chair next to her.

"They're uh, very good actually," Rose complimented as she flipped through the book to sketches of a breastfeeding mother, a father and a daughter. " _Jack_...this is exquisite work!"

"Ah, they didn't think too much of an old Paree," Jack replied.

"Paris?" Rose asked, shocked.

Jack nodded.

"You do get around, for a p--, well, uh, a, a person of limited means.." Rose stopped herself before she could insult him again.

To her surprise, Jack laughed. "Go on! I'm a poor guy. You can say it!"

Rose smiled and continued to peer in the sketchbook, coming to various sketches of a nude woman in various poses.

"Well well well," Rose raised her eyebrows. "And these were drawn from life?"

A man walked by and Rose hid the book. When the man was far enough away, Jack leaned close and said "Well, that's one of the great things about Paris: lots of girls willing to take their clothes off."

Rose chuckled and flipped to another nude. 

"You like this woman," Rose speculated, a tinge of jealousy in her voice. "You've used her several times."

"Well, she had beautiful hands, you see," Jack pointed out, showing Rose various sketches of the topless woman's hands.

Rose wasn't convinced. She shot him a look. "I think you must have had a love affair with her."

"No, no. Just with her hands," Jack replied, laughing as he turned the page of his sketchbook. "She was a one-legged prostitute, see?''

"Oh. _Oh_!" 

"She had a great sense of humor though..." Jack reminisced before turning the page yet again to show her a picture of a rumpled woman with layers of clothing and jewelry.

"Oh, and this lady...she used to sit at this bar, every night, wearing every piece of jewelry she owned just...waiting for her long lost love," Jack explained to an engrossed Rose. "We called her Madame Bijou. See how her clothes are all moth-eaten?"

"You have a gift, Jack, you do," Rose complimented, amazed. "You see people."

"I see you," Jack replied, looking up at her from his sketchbook.

Rose smiled, unconsciously craving his praise. _"And?"_

Jack gaze pierced her icy blue eyes. "You wouldn't've jumped."

Rose's face fell. He hadn't insulted her, no. He had seen right through her.

***

Ruth DeWitt Bukater was having tea with Lucy Noël Martha Dyer-Edwards, The Countess of Rothes, chatting her up about Rose's upcoming nuptials with Cal Hockley. Out of the corner of her eye, Ruth sees Molly Brown coming from across the room and she lowers her voice.

"Oh no, that vulgar Brown woman is coming this way," Ruth hissed to the Countess. "Get up, quickly before _she sits with us_."

"Hello girls," Molly greeted cheerfully as they rose from their seats. "I was hoping I'd catch you at tea."

"We're _awfully sorry_ you missed it, Ruth said in a tone that made it clear that she wasn't. "The Countess and I are just off to take the air on the boat deck."

Molly could see right through her, but she persisted. "That sounds great. Let's go. I need to catch up on the gossip."

Ruth gritted her teeth and turned without another word, nose upturned. Molly and the Countess followed, passing a table where the silver-haired Captain Edward John "E.J." Smith and White Star Line Chairman J. Bruce Ismay sat.

Ismay nodded to the ladies and turned to the captain. 

"So you've not lit the last four boilers then?" Ismay demanded.

"No," Smith replied, taking a sip of his tea. "But we're making excellent time."

Ismay lit a cigarette and impatiently took a puff. "Captain, the press knows the size of _Titanic_ , let them marvel at her speed too. We must give them something new to print. And the maiden voyage of _Titanic_ _must make headlines!_

"I prefer not to push the engines until they've been properly run in," Smith expressed, stroking his beard.

"Of course I leave it to your good offices to decide what's best, but what a glorious end to your last crossing if we get into New York Tuesday night, beat the record set by _Olympic_ , and surprise them all?" Ismay slapped his hand on the table. "Retire with a bang, eh, E.J?"

Begrudgingly, Captain Smith stiffly nodded. He'd keep it under advisement.

***

"...After that I worked at a squid boat in Monterey, then I went down to the pier in Santa Monica and did portraits for ten cents apiece," Jack explained.

The morning passed well into the afternoon and the pair leaned against the balcony overlooking the deck of the ship, planning adventures together they were unlikely to have.

"Why can't I be like you Jack?" Rose sighed, turning towards him. "Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it. Say we'll go there, sometime... to that pier... even if we only ever just talk about it."

"No, we'll do it," Jack decided. "We'll drink cheap beer and go on the rollercoaster until we throw up and we'll ride horses on the beach... right in the surf... but you have to ride like a cowboy, none of that side-saddle stuff."

"You mean one leg on each side?" Rose asked excitedly. "Can you show me?"

"Sure," Jack nodded. "If you like."

"Teach me to ride like a man," Rose said.

"And chew tobacco like a man," Jack added with a faux Southern accent.

"And _spit_ like a man!" Joked Rose with a faux Southern accent of her own.

"What, they didn't teach you that in finishing school?" Jack smirked.

"No!" Rose laughed.

"Come on, I'll show you!" Jack righted himself up from the railing he was leaning against and took Rose's hand, pulling her over to a part of the deck with a roof, much to Rose's dismay and protest.

"Watch closely," Jack hawked up a loogie and spat it across the deck.

"That's disgusting!" Rose laughed.

"Alright, your turn," Jack urged.

Rose looked around and spat the little saliva she had in her mouth over the railing.

"That was pitiful!" Jack chided. "C'mon, you really gotta hawk it back, get some leverage to it. Use your arms. Arch your neck--"

He hawked another loogie up as Rose practiced bringing her own phlegm up.

"See the range on that thing?" Jack pointed at the path his spit took.

"Mmm hmm," Rose nodded with a mouthful of spit.

With Jack's encouragement, Rose spat another loogie, this one going much farther than her previous attempt.

Jack considered her attempt a better one, but offered more pointers. As Jack continued his demonstration, Rose noticed her mother approaching with Molly Brown and the Countess of Rothes, and she had to practically beat Jack's arm to get his attention.

He wheeled around, spittle still dripping down his mouth.

"Mother!" Rose exclaimed, stepping forward to introduce Jack.

Ruth looked at Jack like an insect. " _Charmed_ , I'm sure."

Molly discreetly indicated the spittle around Jack's mouth that he quickly wiped off with his hand.

Rose told the story of the night before to a captive audience, with all but Ruth curious and appreciative of Jack.

"Well, Jack, it sounds like you're a good man to have around in a sticky spot--" Molly began before being interrupted by a bugler, sounding the meal call right behind them.

"Why do they insist on always announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?" Molly wondered aloud.

"Shall we go dress, mother?" Rose laughed nervously. She looked over her shoulder to Jack. "See you at dinner, Jack."

Jack waved as Rose exited with Ruth and the Countess, leaving him and Molly alone on the deck.

"Son, do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing?" asked a bemused Molly.

"Not really," chuckled Jack.

"Well, you're about to go into the snakepit," Molly warned, shooting him an exasperated look. _What_ exactly are you planning to wear?"

Jack looks down at his clothes. Back up at her. He hadn't thought about that. He simply shrugged.

Molly sighed.

"I figured," Molly gestured for him to follow her. "C'mon."


	4. Dinner and a Party

**RMS _Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean, April 13th, 1912, Evening**

Soon, Jack and Molly Brown were in Molly's stateroom with men's suits and jackets and formal wear strewn all over the place as she set about Jack's makeover from a Third Class steerage man to a First Class gentleman.

Fully dressed, Molly beamed at Jack as she examined her handiwork.

"I knew it!" Molly exclaimed proudly. "You and my son are about the same size!"

"Pretty close!" Jack said, adjusting his bow tie as he checked himself out in the mirror.

Decked out in a black tuxedo with his hair slicked neatly back, Jack bore little resemblance to the young steerage man that Molly had brought into the opulent suite.

"My, my, my," Molly fawned, "you shine up like a new penny!"

***

And shine Jack did, dashing in his borrowed white-tie outfit, right down to his pearl studs as he made his way to the First Class dining saloon, where a steward bowed and smartly opened the door to the First Class Entrance.

"Good evening, sir," the steward greeted as he held the door open for Jack, drifting strains of classical music echoing through the halls as he did so.

Jack played the role smoothly, nodding with just the right degree of disdain as he stepped through the threshold to a new world.

Jack dropped all pretense of arrogance as his breath was taken away by the splendor spread out before him. Overhead was the enormous glass dome, with a sparkling crystal chandelier at its center. Sweeping down six stories was the opulent First Class Grand Staircase.

As Jack descended the Grand Staircase down to A deck, he took note of the people: the women in their floor length dresses, elaborate hairstyles and abundant jewelry; the gentlemen in evening dress, standing with one hand at the small of the back, talking quietly, nodding to him a perfunctory greeting.

He nodded back, feeling awkward internally, but keeping an outward veneer of confidence. He felt like a spy or something.

Cal came down the stairs, with Ruth on his arm, covered in jewelry. They both walked right past Jack, with neither one recognizing him, much to Jack's amusement.

Cal nodded at him, one gent to another, like he would anybody else in First Class. He watched the two walk by, but his attention was quickly diverted. 

For just behind Cal and Ruth on the stairs was Rose, a vision in red and black, her low-cut dress showing off her neck and shoulders, her arms sheathed in white gloves that come well above above the elbow. Jack stood transfixed, hypnotized by her radiant beauty.

Jack imitated the gentlemen's stance, hand behind his back. She extended her gloved hand and he took it, kissing the back of her fingers. Rose flushed, beaming noticeably. She couldn't take her eyes off him.

A boyish grin appeared over Rose's gloved hand. "I saw that in a nickelodeon once and I always wanted to try it."

Rose laughed, and even harder when Jack made a show of taking her arm and pantomiming an exaggerated version of a First Class man he saw moments earlier.

Rose spotted Cal and her mother, and led Jack to them to introduce him in his tuxedo.

"Why, that's amazing!" Cal chuckled in condescending surprise, doing a double-take. "You can almost pass for a gentleman!"

Jack's lip curled. "Almost."

As they entered the dining saloon amidst the swirling throng of wealthy diners, Rose leaned close to him, pointing out several notables.

"There's the Countess Rothes..." Rose nodded towards a severe looking young woman.

"And that's John Jacob Astor... the richest man on the ship." Rose gestured towards a tall mustachioed man and a young pregnant woman. "His little wifey there, Madeleine, is my age and in a delicate condition. See how she's trying to hide it. _Quite_ the scandal..."

"And over there, that's Sir Cosmo and Lucile, Lady Duff-Gordon," Rose and Lady Duff-Gordon exchanged friendly waves. "She designs naughty lingerie, among her many talents. Very popular with the royals."

As Cal became engrossed in a conversations with Cosmo Duff-Gordon and Colonel Gracie and Ruth, the Countess and Lucille discuss fashion, Rose pivoted Jack smoothly, showing him another impeccably dressed couple.

"And that's Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, Madame Aubert. _Mrs._ Guggenheim is at home with the children, of course..."

They soon ran into Molly Brown, and after a warm greeting, she took Jack's other arm as they walked into the First Class dining saloon.

"Ain't nothin' to it, is there, Jack?" Molly grinned. "Remember, they love money, so just pretend you own a gold mine and you're in the club."

The trio enter the dining hall, alive and lit by a constellation of chandeliers, full of elegantly dressed people and music from a small orchestra, like a ballroom at a fairy tale palace. 

Molly spots the Astors, who had made their way to their table. She greets JJ, her old friend, in her typical irreverent way, and Rose exchanges warm pleasantries with Madeline before introducing Jack.

"JJ, Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Jack Dawson."

Astor shook Jack's hand. "Good to meet you Jack. Are you of the Boston Dawsons?"

"No, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons, actually," Jack replied.

J.J. nods as if he's heard of them, puzzled, but nonetheless polite and accepting.

Jack was seated at the large table opposite Molly Brown and Rose, who was flanked by Cal, Ruth, and Thomas Andrews. Joining them were, Ismay, Colonel Gracie, the Countess of Rothes, Guggenheim, Madame Aubert, and the Astors.

The table had assumed Jack was one of them, a young captain of industry perhaps. New money, obviously, but still a member of their exclusive club. Ruth, however, quickly dispelled that notion as they settled into their seats.

"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Dawson," Ruth sneered. "I hear they're quite good on this ship."

"The best I've seen, m'am," Jack quipped. "Hardly any rats."

The table laughed.

"Mr. Dawson is joining us from third class," Cal explained, gesturing to him like a sideshow freak. "He was of some assistance to my fiancee last night."

"It turns out that Mr. Dawson is quite a fine artist," Rose complimented. "He was kind enough to show me some of his work today,"

"Rose and I differ somewhat on our definition of fine art," Cal countered arrogantly. "Not to impugn on your work, sir."

Jack waved off the subtle insult.

Rose coughed, motioning surreptitiously for Jack to take his napkin off his plate.

"Are these all for me?" whispered a panicked Jack to Molly at the plethora of utensils on either side of his dinner plate.

"Just start on the outside and work your way in," Molly replied.

As a waiter made his rounds, conversation buzzed at the table. Finally, the waiter made his way to Jack.

"How do you take your caviar, sir?" the waiter asked, a spoon ready to scoop out the dish.

"No caviar for me, thanks," Jack declined. He glanced at Cal. "Never did like it much."

Jack looked at Rose, poker faced, and she smiles.

"And where exactly do you live, Mr. Dawson?" Ruth asked, continuing her contemptuous line of questioning.

"Well, right now my address is the RMS Titanic. After that, I'm on God's good humor," Jack replied without an ounce of shame.

How is it you have the means to travel, Mr. Dawson?" Ruth pressed.

"I work my way from place to place. Tramp steamers and such. I won my ticket on Titanic here in a lucky hand at poker," Jack replied, glancing at Rose. "A very lucky hand."

Cal went pulled a cigarette out and went to light it. Jack tossed a book of matches to Cal, who looked affronted.

"All life is a game of luck!" declared Gracie, Jack having won his respect.

Cal shook his head, sipping champagne. "A real man makes his own luck."

"You find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" Ruth asked contemptuously, annoyed that Jack has scored a point with the table.

Molly glared at her.

"Well, yes, ma’am, I do… I mean, I got everything I need right here with me. I got air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what’s gonna happen or, who I’m gonna meet, where I’m gonna wind up," Jack replied, his speech drawing the table in. "Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people. I figure life’s a gift and I don’t intend on wasting it. You don’t know what hand you’re gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you… to make each day count."

Molly Brown raised her glass in a salute. "Well said, Jack."

"Here, here!" Col. Gracie agreed.

Rose raised her glass, looking at Jack. "To making it count."

"To making it count!" repeated the table, all except for Ruth and Cal of course, though Cal does awkwardly raise his glass, if only to avoid appearing impolite.

***

After a lavish dinner, dessert had been served and a waiter arrived with cigars in a humidor on a wheeled cart as Molly holds court with an entertaining story.

Rose leaned over to Jack, whispering, "Next it'll be brandies in the Smoking Room..."

Practically on cue, Col. Gracie stood up. "Well, join me for a brandy, gentlemen?"

Jack and Rose grinned at each other.

"Now they retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being _masters of the universe,"_ Rose continued, rolling her eyes.

"Ladies, thank you for the pleasure of your company," announced Ismay as the other men rose to their feet.

"Rose, I'll escort you back to the cabin?" Cal asked, hands gripping the back of her chair.

"No," Rose replied. "I'll stay here."

"Joining us, Dawson?" invited Gracie. "You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?"

"No thanks," Jack declined. "I gotta be heading back."

"Probably best. It'll be all business and politics, that sort of thing. Wouldn't interest you," Cal sneered, brushing past Jack. He tossed the book of matches back. "Good of you to come."

Cal and the other gentlemen exit, leaving Jack at the table with the women.

"Jack, must you go?" Rose asked as Jack stood up from the table to leave.

"Time to row with the other slaves," Jack quipped, standing up from his chair.

Jack put his hand in her's, discreetly depositing a folded note in her hand before giving it a kiss and walking out of the First Class dining hall and towards the Grand Staircase.

Rose turned her body to hide and read the note:

_Make it count. Meet me by the clock_

Caught off guard, Rose made a decision.

She soon crossed the A-Deck foyer, sighting Jack at the landing above. Overhead was the crystal dome.

Jack had his back to her, studying the ornate clock with its carved figures of Honor and Glory. It softly struck the hour.

Jack turned and smiled at her as Rose nervously ascended the sweeping staircase.

"Wanna go to a _real_ party?"

***

And what a party it was!

Crow led and alive with music, laughter and raucous carrying on. An impromptu band of Irishmen were gathered near the upright piano, playing lively stomping music on a fiddle, accordion and tambourine. People of all ages were dancing, drinking beer and wine, smoking, laughing, even brawling.

A man tried to carry on a conversation with Rose in a language she didn't understand, but Tommy Ryan thankfully handed Rose a pint of stout and she watched in delight as Jack danced with the five year old Cora, twirling around the child, an able dance partner despite her small stature.

Fabrizio danced with Helga, the blonde Norwegian woman whom he had tried to talk to the day before, the music proving to be the common denominator in their courtship.

As the band switched to a new, fast-paced jig, Jack pulled a reluctant Rose to her feet for a dance.

"Jack...wait! I can't do this," protested Rose as he took her hand in his.

"We're gonna have to get a little bit closer," Jack encouraged, pulling her closer to him by the small of her back.

Young Cora look discouraged as Jack began to dance with Rose.

"You're still my best girl, Cora," Jack assured, and the child smiled graciously as the music picked up and the new partners began to dance.

"I don't know the steps!" laughed Rose nervously.

"Neither do i!" Jack chuckled. "Just go with it! Don't think!"

They danced like two idiots all around the meager dance floor, and when Fabrizio pulled Helga on a raised wooden shipping platform to dance, Jack followed suit and pulled Rose up along with him.

They had a bit of a dance-off where they showcased their fancy footwork, which quickly ended when Jack took her by her wrists and spun her round and round, Rose screaming in delight at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

The party wore on, and Tommy became embroiled in a heated arm wrestling match. Jack led Rose to a crowded table and snatched a couple stouts for the thirsty pair to drink.

Jack sipped his, and stared in surprise at her as she chugged hers down.

"What?" Rose grinned. "You think a First Class girl can't drink?"

They laughed, but just then a drunk stumbled into them. Jack shoved him away and check on Rose, but Rose was too giddy to care.

A thud at the table: Tommy had won his arm wrestling match. Rose sauntered over to the crowded table and snatched the cigarette out of the stunned Irishman's mouth.

"So! You think you're big tough men?" Rose challenged, puffing on the cigarette. "Let's see you do this!"

She took an end of her long dress and handed it to Jack. "Hold it up..."

She rose on the point of her toes like a ballerina, holding it until the pain became too much to bear.

Jack caught her before she could fall, and the 'big tough men' were impressed. 

The band turned to another rousing song, and the partygoers on the dance floor joined hands in a circle, parading round and round in tune to the music.

Rose had never had so much fun in her life, and she was having so much fun, in fact, that she never noticed the looming spectre of one Spicer Lovejoy, hidden amongst the steerage crowd...

***

The stars blazed overhead, so bright and clear you can see the Milky Way. Rose and Jack walk along the row of lifeboats.

Still giddy from the party, they sung the popular song "Come Josephine in My Flying Machine", fumbling the words and breaking down laughing:

 _Come Josephine in my flying machine._ _And it's up she goes! Up she goes!_ _In the air she goes. Where? There she goes!_

They reached the First Class Entrance, the sound of the ship's orchestra wafting gently through the doors. They don't go straight in, not wanting the evening to end. Instead, Rose grabbed a davit and leaned back, staring at the cosmos.

"Isn't it magnificent?" Rose exclaimed, going to a rail and leaning on it. "So grand and endless."

"They're such small people, Jack... my crowd. They think they're giants on the earth, but they're not even dust in God's eye," Rose sighed. "They live inside this little tiny champagne bubble... and someday the bubble's going to burst."

Jack leaned at the rail next to her, his hand just touching hers. It was the slightest contact imaginable, and yet all either one of them can feel is that square inch of skin where their hands are touching.

"You're not one of them," Jack said. "There's been a mistake."

"A mistake?" Rose asked, confused at his odd choice of words.

"Yeah," Jack replied. "You got mailed to the wrong address."

"I did, didn't I?" Rose laughed. Suddenly, something streaking across the night sky caught her eye. 

"Look! A shooting star!" she exclaimed, pointing.

"That was a long one," Jack whistled. "My father used to say that whenever you saw one, it was a soul going to heaven."

Rose smiled. "I like that. Aren't we supposed to wish on it?"

Jack looked at her, and found that they are suddenly very close together. It would be so easy to move another couple of inches... to kiss her. 

"What would you wish for?" Jack breathed, inches from her lips.

"Something I can't have," Rose pulled back from him, smiling sadly. "Goodnight, Jack. And thank you."

Rose suddenly left the rail, turning and hurrying through the First Class Entrance.

"Rose!!" Jack called, hurrying after her.

But the door banged shut, and Rose was gone. Back to her world.


	5. Forbidden

**RMS _Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean. , Sunday, April 14, 1912, Early Morning**

The next morning, Rose and Cal were having breakfast in silence in the bright, sunny promenade, the tension palpable between them. Their maid, Trudy, poured the coffee and went back to the stateroom for orange juice.

"I had hoped you would come to me last night," Cal said over a sip of coffee.

"I was tired," Rose replied.

"Yes," Cal glared up at her. "Your exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting."

"I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me," Rose stiffened.

"You will never behave like that again! Do you understand?" Cal warned, the anger in his voice beginning to rise.

"I'm not some foreman in your mills than you can command! I am your fiancee--" Rose began indignantly.

"M-my fiancee? MY FIANCEE!" Cal lost all pretense and exploded, sweeping the breakfast china off the table with a crash. He bull-rushed Rose, glowering over her as he gripped the sides of her chair, so she was trapped between his arms.

"YES! You are! And my WIFE! In practice, if not yet by law," hissed Cal, his reddening face inches from hers. "So you will _honor_ me, as a wife is required to honor her husband. I will _not_ be made out a fool... Is this in any way unclear?"

Rose shrunk back into the chair and shook her head wordlessly, .

"Good," Cal replied, calm now.

Rose saw Trudy, frozen, partway through the door bringing the orange juice. Cal followed Rose's glance and straightened up.

"Excuse me," Cal said politely, stalking past the maid and entering the stateroom as if nothing had happened.

Trudy rushed forward to pick up the mess as Rose sunk to her knees, sobbing and apologizing profusely.

"We... had a little accident," Rose cried, trying to pick up the remains of the upturned breakfast table. "I'm sorry, Trudy...here, l-let me help you..."

Trudy gently took her hands. "It's alright, miss..."

Rose collapsed to her bottom, crying freely. "It's alright, miss. It's alright..."

***

Once Rose had calmed, it was time for Sunday services. Rose leaned against her tall bedpost as Trudy took to tying her corset as gently as she could despite the restrictive nature of the garment.

"Tea, Trudy," Ruth ordered curtly as she entered the stateroom, and the maid was dismissed.

Ruth took over tying Rose's corset, pulling the cords a lot harder and tighter than Trudy had been.

"You are not to see that boy again, do you understand me Rose?" Ruth demanded, punctuating each word with a rough tie. "I forbid it!"

"Oh, stop it, Mother," scoffed Rose. "You'll give yourself a nosebleed."

"Rose, this is not a game!" Ruth snapped, spinning Rose around by the arm to face her. "Our situation is precarious. You know the money's gone!"

"Of course I know it's gone," Rose hissed. "You remind me every day!"

"Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name," Ruth reminded her. "And that name is the only card we have to play."

"I don't understand you," Ruth griped. "It is a fine match with Hockley, and it will insure our survival."

Rose grimaced, her back pressed up against the bedpost. She felt so lost. "How can you put this on my shoulders?"

"Why are you being so selfish?!" Ruth accused.

" _I'm_ being selfish?!" Rose retorted indignantly. How dare she accuse _her_ of being selfish!

Her mother stared at her in disbelief. "Do you want to see me working as a seamstress? Is that what you want? Do you want to see our fine things sold at an auction, our memories scattered to the winds?"

Ruth turned away, covering her mouth, the thought of this possibility making her physically ill.

Rose sighed. "This is so unfair."

Ruth turned back to regard her daughter yet again. "Of course it's unfair... we're women. Our choices are never easy."

Ruth took Rose's face in her hands and kissed her cheek. Rose allowed the affection, but turned her back without another word.

Ruth resumed her tying of the corset, tying each knot like the lash of a whip.

***

Later on the afternoon, following a Sunday service led by the captain, Thomas Andrews was giving a tour of the ship to Cal and the DeWitt Bukaters.

They were at the bridge for this leg of the tour, and Captain Smith was explaining the intricacies of the rudder when Harold Bride, the young Junior Wireless Operator, hustled past and delivered a marconigram to Captain Smith.

"Another ice warning, sir," Bride reported. "This one's from the _Nordic_."

"Thank you, Sparks," Smith nodded, and Bride hurried back to the wireless room.

Smith glanced at the message, thinking of the conversation he had with Mr. Ismay just the day before.

_"We must break the Olympic's record!"_ the White Star Line Chairman had said _. "The Titanic must make headlines!"_

Of course, Ismay was a simply a passenger and Smith was the ship's captain, but the White Star Line signed his checks, and if the _Titanic_ made headlines in New York, Ismay would surely see to it that Smith got a hefty retirement bonus.

Smith nonchalantly put the message in his pocket, nodding reassuringly to Rose and the group. "Not to worry, it's quite normal for this time of year. In fact, we're speeding up. I've just ordered the last boilers lit."

Andrews scowled slightly before motioning the group toward the door of the bridge towards the next stop in their tour: the First Class gymnasium.

***

Jack climbed over the railing from the Third Class deck to the First Class deck, boosted up by Tommy and Fabrizio, who profusely tried to talk him out of what he was doing, not that he listened.

He had to talk to Rose. Had to.

When he tried earlier that morning to just _talk to her_ during the First Class Sunday services, Cal sent his goon Lovejoy out to turn him away.

He must have either paid off those damn stewards too or they had bad memories, because he was just there in that neck of the woods the night before, albeit a little finer dressed.

Either way, something was wrong. He could sense it.

Jack watched as Andrews led the group back from the bridge along the boat deck, side by side with Rose, Cal arm in arm with Ruth.

He swiped a jacket and hat from a nearby bench and tailed them, staying in the shadows.

***

As they passed the lifeboats, Rose turned to Andrews with a look of concern on her face.

"Mr. Andrews, forgive me...I did the sum in my head, and with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned... forgive me, but it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard," Rose pointed out.

Andrews put on a gentlemanly smile, but the fact of the number of lifeboats still obviously troubled him.

"About half, actually. Rose, you miss nothing, do you? In fact, I put in these new type davits, which can take an extra row of boats here," he explained, gesturing along the deck. "But it was thought... by some... that the deck would look too cluttered. So I was overruled."

Cal whacked a lifeboat with his walking stick. "Waste of deck space as it is, on an unsinkable ship!"

"Sleep soundly, young Rose," Andrews assured, as much to himself as her. "I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She's all the lifeboat you need."

As Rose and Andrews passed boat seven, Jack, disguised as a gentleman, turned from the rail and walked up behind the group. He tapped Rose on the arm and she turned, gasping. 

Jack motioned to her and Rose cut away from the group toward the gymnasium door which Jack held open.

Jack checked the corner and quickly closed the door. He was turned to Rose, about to speak, but Rose cut him off before he could talk.

"Jack, this is impossible," Rose panicked, turning to the door to leave. "I can't see you."

Jack took her by the shoulders, backing her against the wall. "Rose, you're no picnic... you're a spoiled little brat even, but underneath all that, you're the most amazingly astounding girl...woman I've ever known and--"

"Jack, I--" Rose cut him off.

"No wait. Let me try to get this out. You're amazing... and I know I have nothing to offer you, Rose. I know that. But I'm involved now. You jump, I jump, remember?" Jack eyes bored into her's. "I can't turn away without knowin' that you're goin' to be alright.."

Rose felt the tears coming to her eyes. Jack was so open and real...not like anyone she has ever known. He had her against the wall, but she was not afraid of him, unlike the way she felt with Cal.

"I'll be fine," Rose lied. "Really."

Jack shook his head. He knew better than that.

"They've got you trapped, Rose, and you're goin' to die if you don't break out. Maybe not right away, 'cause you're strong." He stroked her cheek, softly wiping away a tear. "But sooner or later the fire that I _love_ about you is goin' to go out."

"It's not up to you to save me, Jack," Rose said defiantly.

"You're right," Jack nodded. "Only you can do that."

Jack's eyes were pleading, intense, desperate. He leaned in for a kiss...

No. She couldn't do it. Rose broke away from him.

"I'm going back," Rose said coldly. "Leave me alone."  
  
She turned and left the gymnasium, and Jack, both full of ache and regret.

***

Soon, it was tea, and Rose sat as silent and still as a porcelain doll on a divan in the most elegant room on the ship, done in Louis Quinze Versailles style while her mother chatted up the Countess of Rothes and Lady Duff-Gordon. 

As Ruth yammered on and on again about inconsequential gossip, Rose watched a First Class woman and her daughter having tea. The girl, no more than four, daintily folding a napkin. Being coached the right way hold a teacup. Her mother correcting her posture. The little girl was trying so hard to please, her expression so serious...like Rose was at that age.

The relentless conditioning in becoming an Edwardian geisha. All this luxury, a gilded cage.

Rose blinked in realization, then calmly and deliberately turned her teacup over, spilling tea all over her own dress.

"Oh, look what I've done." She got up from her chair without a word, nor a second glance.

***

The North Atlantic sun began to set as Jack leaned over the apex of the bow railing, a place that had become his favorite spot on the ship. After he conned his way aboard, one of the first things he did was go out on the bow, his arms spread to the heavens, and he declared "I'm the King of the World!" at the top of his lungs. He had just won a ticket on the Ship of Dreams, and was going back home. What could be better than that?

Now, just days after that jubilant moment, and finding something, or rather _someone_ , better than that, Jack didn't quite feel like the 'King of the World'... more like the King's fool, the court jester.

A fool, because he had just given his heart to a girl that was way, way out of his league, and he knew it, knew it the whole time. He pressed his luck with her, and he paid for it when she took the heart he'd given her and broke it.

Jack sighed, closing his eyes, letting the chill wind clear his head.

Jack heard footsteps approach. _His mind was playing tricks on him,_ he thought _,_ daring him to hope beyond hope that it was her.

Sure enough..."Hello, Jack."

Jack turned and smiled at the sound of her voice. Rose was standing there, before him like an angel descended from heaven.

"I changed my mind," she beamed.

Jack just continued to smile at her, his eyes drinking her in. Her cheeks were red and hair windswept from the chill wind, and her eyes sparkled in the setting sun.

"Fabrizio said you might be up--" Rose explained.

Jack put a finger to his lips. "Sssshh... Come here."

He put his hands on her waist as if he is going to kiss her.

"Close your eyes," Jack whispered.

She did, and he turned her to face forward, the direction the ship is going. He pressed her gently to the rail, standing right behind her. Then he toof her two hands and raised them until she is standing with her arms outstetched on each side. Rose went going along with him. When he lowered his hands, she kept arms up like wings.

"Okay," Jack whispered softly. "Open them."

Rose gasped. There was nothing in her field of vision but water, like there was no ship under them at all, as if was just the two of them soaring. 

"I'm flying! Jack!" Rose beamed, leaning forward, arching her back against him.

Jack put his hands on her waist to steady her, and stifled laughter as he softly sang, "C _ome Josephine in my flying machine..."_

Rose closed her eyes, feeling herself floating weightless far above the sea. She smiled dreamily, then leaned back, gently pressing her back against his chest.

Slowly, Jack raised his hands, arms outstretched, and they met hers, their fingertips gently touching. Their fingers then intertwine, caressing through and around each other like the bodies of two lovers.

Jack tipped his face forward into her blowing red hair, letting the scent of her wash over him, until his cheek brushed against her ear.

Rose turned her head until her lips are near his. She lowered her arms, turning her head further, until she found his mouth with hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she surrendered to him, to their shared emotion. They kiss, slowly and tremulously, and then with building passion.

For Rose, it was as if Jack and the ship merged into a single force of power and optimism, lifting her, carrying her forward on a magical journey, into a night without fear.


	6. The Drawing

**RMS _Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean, Sunday, April 14th, 1912, Dusk**

"It's quite proper, I assure you!" Rose giggled, hurrying Jack through the door of her and Cal's luxurious First Class stateroom. "This is the sitting room."

Jack was immediately struck by the opulence of the room, his neck craning around as he took in the brilliant maroon and gold walls, illuminated by bright lights and lamps, its luxury in such stark contrast to his modest Third Class compartment.

"Will this light do?" Rose asked as she took off the shawl she was wearing.

"What?" Jack asked, distracted in particular at the mahogany fireplace and the gold clock at its mantle.

"Don't artists need good light?" Rose asked.

Jack ran his finger along the fireplace, as if he was checking for dust.

"Zat ees true, but I'm not used to weerking een zuch 'orrible condeeshuns!" Jack replied with his best French accent to a chuckle from Rose, who was neatly folding her shawl.

"Monet!" Jack exclaimed, drawn to the painter's portrait of water lilies from across the room.

"You know his work?" Rose asked, joining him as he squatted down to get a closer look.

"Of course," Jack traced the path of the painted lilies with his finger. "Look at his use of color here, isn't it great?"

"I know," Rose agreed. "It's extraordinary."

Minutes passed as Rose took him through her art collection, and Rose soon decided that it was time for Jack to turn her into a work of art--the only reason why she came back to this stuffy and decadent place.

"Cal insists on carting this hideous thing everywhere," she chuckled nervously as she worked the combination to Cal's safe to retrieve the prop for his drawing of her: the Heart of the Ocean.

Jack eyeballed the rest of the apartment suspiciously, as if her fiancee was going to burst in any second. "Will we be expecting him anytime soon?"

"Not so long as the cigars and brandy hold out," Rose replied as she exited the adjacent room, taking the Heart of the Ocean out of its case to show Jack.

Jack was impressed as Rose handed him the necklace. "Wow! That's nice!"

He turned to the light to get a better look at the blue stone. "What is it, a sapphire?"

"A diamond," Rose corrected as she stood next to him. "A very rare diamond."

"Whew," Jack shook his head, the magnitude of wealth in his hands inexplicable to him.

"Jack," Rose looked at him thoughtfully. "I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. Wearing this."

"Okay," Jack nodded, still hypnotized by the brilliance of the diamond.

" _Wearing only this,"_ Rose purred.

Realization hit Jack, and his head whipped around, the diamond all but forgotten in his hands.

***

Jack couldn't believe what he was about to do, even as he was moving furniture around in front of a desk to do it. And it wasn't like he hadn't seen a naked woman before, but all those other times in Paris were never like this. Those times were professional, detached. He was friendly with them, sure. They'd go down to the pub and toss a few back, but it never led to anything sexual. 

But this was different. This was _Rose_. As he sat down to sharpen his charcoal pencil with a pocket knife from his kit, Jack's heart thundered in anticipation.

The door to Rose's stateroom opened, and Jack's head perked up.

Rose leaned to the side against the door frame, swinging the belt of her sheer black kimono with one hand as she held the front of it closed with the other. She had a smug look on her face.

Great. She was teasing him.

"The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll..." She sauntered over to him, holding out a dime in her outstretched hand.

She was hypnotic. Jack couldn't take his eyes off her.

"As a paying customer," Rose tossed the dime to his lap, which Jack caught with a grin. "I expect to get what I want..."

Her eyes locked on his, and she slid out of the kimono, and it fell to the floor around her like a weightless second skin. She was _The Birth of Venus_ come alive.

Jack swallowed, his heart absolutely beating out of his chest, pumping blood to his reddening face all the way to his manhood, which was getting harder than the pencil he held like a weapon in his shaking hand.

She ran her hands nervously up her hips and the "V" of her waist, giving Jack first an unobstructed, privileged view of her vagina, modestly adorned with a patch of auburn hair.

His eyes traveled to her breasts, framed by the curtains of her hair, to her parted red lips...

Jack forced himself to avert his eyes. He could stare at her naked body all the way to New York, but time was of the essence: he had to get down to business.

"Over on the bed, er, the couch," Jack directed, blushing, trying his damnedest to be professional, but flubbing miserably even his first set of instructions. 

She did as she was told, and gingerly reclined across the couch, nervously looking to him for more direction.

"Good...lie down," Jack continued, his voice hoarse.

She lay on her side facing him, her head resting on a pillow, her uppermost arm resting over her head, and then to the back of the couch, unsure of how to lay, the experience brand new to her. "Tell me when it looks right--"

"Put your arm back the way it was.." Jack said gently. He bent his raised his arm to his head like a salute. "Put that other arm up...right by your face there..."

She grinned at him as she shifted her positioning for him.

"Head down..." Jack continued. "Eyes to me...keep them on me..."

He adjusted his sketchbook, practically using it to shield her body from his gaze so he could simply collect himself enough to draw. "Just, uh, try to stay still..."

Jack inhaled sharply and set to work, his pencil gliding down the paper for the first line.

He glanced at her again and again...the beginnings of a hand...

"So serious..." Rose teased, screwing her face up.

Jack grinned. She wasn't going to mess him up: he was determined. He shook his hair out of his intense eyes, and a face formed on the paper.

Some shading here....the beginnings of the necklace there...another hand...

Rose smiled as she watched the master at work, his focus as his hand danced across the paper like a figure skater, transcribing her physical form onto the blank white sheets.

Jack could feel the heat rising in his face and ears as he drew and shaded her round breasts, dimpling the nipples, and of course his subject had to call him out on it...

"I believe you were blushing, Mr. Big Artiste," Rose teased as his pencil created the line of her abdominals. "I can't imagine Monsueir Monet blushing,"

"Monet does _landscapes_ ," Jack corrected with a rosy-cheeked grin.

Ah, but Rose _was_ herself a beautiful landscape: pale curves like rolling hills of snow, cascading crimson hair like a raging lava flow, eyes blue like the sky on a cloudless day. 

Monet could keep his water lilies. Jack's flower of choice was a _Rose_.

"Just relax your face...no laughing," Jack insisted.

"Sorry.." Rose sighed and set her jaw, the stillness of her body belying the raging storm of emotion inside, of her thundering heart and fiery arousal.

A woman came to life on the paper through Jack, a man possessed by his art, set upon creating his greatest work yet, his masterpiece.

***

The sun set to a starry, moonless night, and _Titanic_ glided across an unnaturally calm sea, black as a pool of oil, the ships lights mirroring almost perfectly against it. The sky was brilliant with stars.

On the bridge, Captain Smith peered out at the blackness ahead of the ship. Quartermaster Hichens brought him a cup of hot tea with lemon, steaming in the bitter cold.

Joining them, Second Officer Lightoller stared out into the black glass of the Atlantic. "I don't think I've ever seen such a flat calm, in twenty-four years at sea."

Smith nodded, stirring his lemon. "Yes, like a mill pond. Not a breath of wind."

"It's make the bergs harder to see, with no breaking water at the base," Lightoller warned.

"Mmmmm. Well, I'm off," replied Smith evenly. "Maintain speed and heading, Mr. Lightoller."

"Yes sir," replied Lightoller.

"And wake me, of course, if anything becomes in the slightest degree doubtful," Smith added as he exited the bridge.  
  


***

Back in the stateroom, Jack signed and dated the drawing, and passed it over to Rose, who gave him a warm kiss of graditude in return. They were giddy at the excitement of creating the erotic artwork together with every chance of being caught, and at the possibilities held by the still-young night.

As Rose left a note on a piece of _Titanic_ stationary to accompany her drawing, she passed the case to the diamond to Jack to put back in Cal's safe.

Needing some fresh air, Jack opened a window and waited for Rose to get dressed before Cal walked in on them.

The air was cold, even for Jack, a Wisconsin boy, and he briskly left the open window to check on Rose, rubbing and blowing on his hands to warm them up.

Rose met him in the sitting room wearing a pale white and bluish-purple dress with a pink sash.

"You look nice," Jack complimented, the sight of her doing more to warm him than hot air and friction could.

Rose was about to respond in kind, but just then they heard a key in the lock. A look of panic crossed Rose's face and she took Jack's hand and led him swiftly through the bedrooms.

Was it Cal?!

" _My drawings_!" Jack hissed as Rose pulled him into her room.

"Miss Rose?" Lovejoy called as he entered the sitting room door. "Hello?"

It was Lovejoy! Cal must have sent him!

Lovejoy paused, and heard a door opening. He crossed through Cal's room towards Rose's room as he heard another door close.

Jack and Rose nonchalantly but purposefully exited the suite, and Rose led Jack quickly along the corridor toward the B-Deck foyer. They were halfway across the open space when the sitting room door opened in the corridor when Lovejoy poked his head out, scanning for them. Rose turned to see Lovejoy glaring at them, and the valet began the the chase.

"Come on!" Rose shrieked with panicked excitement.

She and Jack broke into a run, surprising the few ladies and gentlemen strolling about. They scramble past the stairs to the bank of elevators.

"Wait! Wait!" they yelled to the shocked elevator operator.

"Take us down," Rose ordered excitedly. "Quickly, quickly!"

The operator scrambled to comply as the young pair urged him on, with Jack even helping him close the steel gate. Lovejoy ran up as the lift starts to descend, slamming his fists on the bars of the gate in frustration.

"Bye!" Rose smirked at him, giving him the middle finger and a wave as Lovejoy disappeared above, much to the sniggering amusement of Jack and the shock of the gaping elevator operator.

Lovejoy emerged from another lift and runs to the one Jack and Rose were in. The operator was just closing the gate to go back up. Lovejoy ran around the bank of elevators and scanned the foyer... no Jack and Rose. He ran the stairs going down to F-Deck just as Jack and Rose scrambled down another set of stairs, running into various stewards who gaped at them in surprise.

Hiding in a brightly lit corridor maze with dozens of compartments, Jack and Rose spied through a port-holed door for Lovejoy as they caught their breath. 

"Pretty tough for a valet, this fella!" Jack laughed, gasping. "More like a cop!"

"I think he was!" Rose agreed, leaning against the wall. "Cal's father hired him to keep his little boy out of trouble, to make sure he kept his wallet after his crawl through the less reputable parts of town."

She laughed as Jack pulled her close from across the hallway. "Kinda like we're doin' now, huh?"

He was about to kiss her, but his grin turned into alarm as Lovejoy had spotted them through the port-holed door from a cross-corridor nearby, charging towards them.

"Oh shit!" Jack exclaimed.

"Go!" screeched Rose as they ran around a corner into a blind alley towards a door marked CREW ONLY, and Jack flung it open, locking the door before Lovejoy could catch them.

The roar of the mechanical room was deafening, with no way out but a ladder going down.

Aiming to escape the noise, Jack gestured to the escape ladder and the pair climbed down into the red glow of the boiler room, looking around the in amazement.

It was like a vision of hell itself, with its roaring furnaces and black figures moving about in the smoky glow.

"Hey! What're you two doing down here?!" a fireman named Fred Barrett demanded.

Jack and Rose took off across the length of the boiler room, dodging amazed stokers, and trimmers with their wheelbarrows of coal, running like ethereal spirits through the open watertight door into Boiler Room 6.

"You shouldn't be down here!" Barrett shouted after them. "It could be dangerous!"

"Carry on!" Jack shouted back over the din. "Don't mind us!"

Jack pulled her through the fiercely hot alley between two boilers and they wound up in the dark, out of sight of the working crew. Watching from the shadows, they saw the stokers working in the hellish glow, shovelling coal into the insatiable maws of the furnaces.

As the whole place thundered with the roar of the fires, Jack took Rose's face, kissing her passionately in the steamy, pounding darkness.


	7. To the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Ahead: This chapter includes the car sex scene and the reason for the "M" rating!

**RMS Titanic, Atlantic Ocean. Sunday, April 14th, 1912. Night**

Electricity arced between the sparks gap of the Marconi instrument as the young Senior Wireless Operator Jack Phillips rapidly keyed out a message on the device while his partner, Junior Operator Harold Bride, flipped frustratedly through the huge stack of outgoing messages that were currently swamping them.

"Look at this one, he wants his private train to meet him. La dee da," Bride rolled his eyes, slapping down the stack of messages. "We'll be up all bloody night on this lot."

" _You'll_ be up all bloody night, yeah?" Phillips quipped as Bride received yet another message from an officer.

Phillips started to receive an incoming message from a nearby ship, the Leyland freighter SS _Californian_ , which jammed his outgoing signal, the beeps deafening at such close range.

"Christ! It's that idiot on the _Californian_!" snapped Phillips, ripping the headset off his ear.

"Tell him to sod off!" Bride said as he shuffled through the messages.

"I'll do more than that!" Phillips replied, furiously keying a rebuke.

***

**_SS Californian,_ Atlantic Ocean .**

Miles away, Wireless Operater Cyril Evans of the SS _Californian_ pulled his earphone off his ear as Phillips' message deafened him. 

"Arrogant bastard! I try to warn him about the ice, and he said " _Keep out. Shut up. I'm working Cape Race,""_ Evans explained incredulously to the officer on duty, Third Officer Charles Groves, standing in the doorway. "And listen to that spark...he must be right on top of us!"

"Now what's he sending?" asked Groves.

" _No seasickness. Poker business good. Al_ ", translated Evans, shaking his head. "Well, that's it for me. I'm shutting down."

As Evans wearily switched off his Marconi generator, Groves headed out to the deck of the freighter--before him and the stationary _Californian_ a field of pack ice and icebergs stretching as far as the eye can see.

***

**RMS _Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean **

While the _Californian_ sat dormant among the pack ice more than six miles away, the _Titanic_ steamed hellbent through the darkness, hurling up white water at the towering bow.

Standing in the tiny half-cylinder of the crow's nest mounted on the foremast were lookouts Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee, trying futilely to keep warm in the 22 knot freezing wind.

"You can _smell_ ice, you know, when it's near," Fleet claimed.

"Bollocks!" retorted Lee, disbelieving.

"Well _I_ can, all right?" replied Fleet.

***

As Fleet and Lee bickered up in the crow's nest, First Officer Murdoch walked briskly out of the warm chartroom and into the cold night air with Second Officer Lightoller as they began their watch shifts.

"Did we ever find those binoculars for the lookouts?" Murdoch asked Lightoller as he rested his arms on a balustrade, his eyes already focused on the night sea for any signs of danger.

"Haven't seen them since Southampton," replied Lightoller as he turned to begin his patrols elsewhere on the ship. "Well, I'll be on my rounds... cheerio!" 

***

Deep inside the _Titanic_ , unaware of the goings-on with the _Californian_ , Jack and Rose happened upon the interior cargo hold and run laughing between the rows of stacked cargo, pallets, and crates.

Rose hugged herself against the cold, a contrast of the dripping heat of the boiler room. She was glad to be away from the pounding noise of those engines: other than the odd creak or rumble, it was as quiet as a library in the labyrinth-like space.

They come upon what had to be a brand new Renault touring car, lashed down to a pallet. It looked like a royal coach from a fairy tale, its brass trim and headlamps nicely set off by its deep burgundy color.

Jack held his hand out to help Rose inside, and she climbed into the plushly upholstered back seat, acting like a princess, mocking the pretentiousness of the life she had been living. She looked around: there were cut crystal bud vases on the walls back there, each containing a single red rose, contrasting the black leather interior.

Jack jumped into the driver's seat, enjoying the feel of the leather and wood. Jack hadn't been in too many cars in his day, certainly never one as posh as this one.

Rose slid down the dividing glass and laughed as Jack honked the horn of the car, acting every bit the toadying chauffeur.

"Where to, Miss?" he asked, nose in the air.

Rose leaned forward from the backseat behind him and whispered in his ear. " _To the stars..._ "

Jack laughed as she chicken-winged his arms and dragged him to the backseat with her.

He wrapped his arm around her, and took her hand in his, squeezing and caressing them as he had done at the bow.

"You nervous?" Jack whispered.

"No," Rose whispered back, taking his fingers to her mouth, kissing the fingertips.

Rose looked up to find Jack staring at her, longing and desire in his eyes.

"Put your hands on me, Jack," breathed Rose, guiding his hand to her breasts.

Jack squeezed them, kissing her hard as they lay across the velvet backseat of the car. Coming from the blazing hot boiler room to the chilly cargo hold had stiffened Rose's nipples: Jack could feel them bud beneath the fabric of her dress, and he grinned over her lips as he teased them with his thumb and forefinger.

She chuckled into his mouth and prompted him to help her out of her dress. To Jack's surprise and delight, Rose had chosen to wear nothing underneath: there was no way she'd squeeze in and out of a corset or a wear a fucking combination chemise and drawers suit. They'd be caught before they could even get the layers off!

Rose guided his hands once more to her bare breasts, enjoying the feel of his rough, strong hands kneading against her soft, sensitive, malleable flesh.

Jack ran those very hands down her torso, to her legs, pulling himself closer to her so that their genitals were flush against one another, separated only by a layer or two of clothing.

Rose pulled his shirt off and cast it aside, running her hands down his bare torso to the waistband of his trousers. He had the slim build of a man of few meals, but years of hard labor had etched a tone of sinewy muscle into his lean frame.

His hardness bulged into her open legs from inside his trousers, but as Rose went to undo them, Jack took her wrists in his strong hands.

"Are you sure about this, Rose?" he asked.

"Yes," Rose half-pleaded, breaking his gentle but firm grip to undo his trousers. "Please..."

She pulled him out and ran her hands up and down his length. She teased the lips of her heat with the head and Jack leaned closer, kicking off his trousers and pressing his body on hers as he propped himself up with his hands on either side of her prone body.

Jack collected himself and Rose braced herself for his girth. As he slowly pressed into her, Jack kept his intense gaze trained on her's. He could see a wince of pain in her face as he moved deeper inside, but as he tried to pull away, Rose locked her legs around his waist and peppered him with kisses, urging him on. Rose gasped in a combination of pleasure and pain as Jack pressed all the way into her, but as she adjusted to his length, the pain finally gave way to an inflamed sense of fullness that overtook her senses.

"Ooh, okay...You can move now, Jack," Rose encouraged, her hands traveling up his back, slick with sweat.

Jack adjusted himself further for her and placed one hand under her low back, just like when they danced the night before, and the other at the nape of her neck so he could grasp at the waves of her red hair, which flowed over the seat of the travel car.

Jack's thrusts began to quicken as he found his rhythm, and Rose found her's, squeezing her legs together in tandem with his thrusts to push him even deeper inside her. They groaned together, and their mouths met again and again, their tongues dancing as they savored the taste and feel of each other's slick, sweaty bodies. 

Jack soon let out a frantic groan and hastened his pace, pulling Rose into a passionate kiss as he reached his climax, pouring into her the hot and wet spend of his love.

Reaching her own orgasm with him, Rose slammed her hand against the glass window, leaving a handprint in the veil of condensation.

Jack bucked into her again, and shivered as she caressed his back with her hand, cold from the window pane. 

With her other hand she ran her hand up his arm, to his deltoid, and then caressed his face,

"You're trembling..." Rose gasped.

Jack smiled shakily, eyes glassed over in a post-coital haze. "I'm alright...I'll be alright."

Rose kissed him hard, as if offering her air to him, and guided his head to her heaving chest, stroking his sopping hair.

"I can feel your heart beating," Jack dreamily whispered .

She hugged his head and body like a security blanket. There was no going back from this. They had claimed each other, bared their entire beings, and nothing, nobody, would ever take that from them. Rose wanted to hold him forever, and never let go.

***

 _"_ Anything missing?" Lovejoy asked as Cal stood at the his open safe, decks away from Jack and Rose's passionate tryst.

Everything that should have been in there was in there, including the diamond. At least the whore and her boytoy weren't thieves.

Something else...a notebook. With a glance at Lovejoy, Cal took it and opened it to a page that was bookmarked with a note that read:

_"DARLING, NOW YOU CAN KEEP US BOTH LOCKED IN YOUR SAFE, ROSE"._

The drawing was of Rose, completely nude except for...the Heart of the Ocean. Signed "JD". Jack Dawson.

Lovejoy stood solemnly beside Cal, glancing at the drawing and then looking away lest he found himself the subject of his boss's wrath.

Cal crumpled Rose's note, then took the drawing in both hands as if to rip it in half, his face contorted in fury.

He tensed to do it, then stopped himself.

"I have a better idea."


	8. The Iceberg

**RMS _Titanic_. Atlantic Ocean. Sunday, April 14th, 1912. Night.**

A pair of stewards entered the Interior Hold following a lead from some stokers and firemen in Boiler Room 6. A young man and a young redhead girl. First Class, by all accounts. Probably a couple of rebellious socialites who got a bit tipsy on champagne and were using the ship as their own personal playground.

Well, the fun was over.

The stewards brandished their electric torches, illuminating the dim hold with their bright beams.

Within a couple of minutes the stewards happened upon a burgundy touring car. A Renault. 

A handprint streaked down the fogged-up rear window...still fresh.

The steward motioned to his partner to the side of the car to cut off possible escape.

"Got yer!" yelled the steward, whipping open the car door.

It was empty!

***

Up on the bridge, First Officer William Murdoch watched as a young couple burst out of a door to the forward well deck, laughing and carrying on, the redheaded girl wearing nothing but a simple dress in the icy cold night. He could chance a guess on how they intended to keep warm...

"Did you see their faces?" laughed Jack as he twirled Rose around, having just narrowly escaped the searching beams of the stewards.

Rose hugged him close, warming herself from the chill.

"Did you see them?--" Jack chuckled. Rose put her hand to his lips, cutting him off.

When Jack stopped laughing, she collected herself and caressed his cheek.

"When this ship docks, I'm getting off with you," Rose announced.

Jack laughed incredulously. "This is crazy!"

Rose laughed back. "I know! It doesn't make any sense! But that's why I trust it."

No words could even come close to expressing what Jack felt for Rose in this moment, but his tight embrace and lips could.

***

As the young lovers kissed under the dim lights of the ship, lookout Frederick Fleet watched from the crow's nest with a chuckle.

"Cor... look at that, would ya!" said Fleet, nudging his partner Reginald Lee.

"They're a bloody sight warmer than we are," replied Lee.

"Well if that's what it takes for us two to get warm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same," quipped Fleet, nudging Lee in the ribs.

The lookouts have a great laugh, but glancing ahead in the dim night, Fleet's expression falls. He did a double take, and the color drained out of his face: A massive iceberg loomed right in their path, five hundred yards out.

 _"Bugger me!!"_ swore Fleet, reaching past Lee to ring the lookout bell three times.

Fleet then grabbed the crow's nest telephone, calling the bridge. He waited impatiently during the precious seconds for it to be picked up, never taking his eyes off the massive iceberg ahead.

"Pick up, ya bastard!" roared Fleet into the phone.

Inside the enclosed wheelhouse, Sixth Officer Moody walked unhurriedly to the phone and picked it up.

"Is someone there?!" yelled Fleet desperately on the other end.

"Yes," replied Moody,. "What do you see?"

"Iceberg right ahead!" shouted Fleet into his ear.

"Thank you," replied Moody, hanging up the phone and immediately calling to Murdoch. "Iceberg right ahead!"

Murdoch had already saw it and rushed to the engine room telegraph. While signaling FULL SPEED ASTERN, he yelled to Quartermaster Hitchens, who was at the wheel.

"Hard a' starboard!" ordered Murdoch.

Moody stood behind Hitchens as the Quartermaster furiously spun the wheel. "Hard'a starboard. The helm is hard over, sir."

***

Down in the Engine Room, Chief Engineer Bell was just checking the soup he has warming on a steam manifold when the engine telegraph clangs, then suddenly goes FULL SPEED ASTERN.

He and the other engineers stared at it disbelivingly for just a second, before Bell jumps to action

"Full astern! FULL ASTERN!!" Bell roared.

The engineers and greasers ran like madmen to close steam valves and start braking the gigantic, Sequioa-like propeller shafts to a stop.

***

Further down in Boiler Room 6, Leading Stoker Fred Barrett was standing with an engineer when the red warning light and "STOP" indicator came on.

"Shut all dampers! Shut 'em!!" ordered Barrett to the already reacting firemen.

***

From the bridge, Murdoch watched the iceberg grew straight ahead.

His jaw clenched as the bow finally started to turn left with agonizing slowness.

But it was not enough. _Titanic_ was too big a ship, with too small a rudder. He held his breath as the horrible physics begin to play out.

 _ **KRUUUNCH!!** _The ship hit the berg on its starboard bow, smashing in the steel hull plates, bumping and scraping along the side of the ship. Rivets popped as the steel plate of the hull flexes from the impact.

Upon impact, at the forward well deck, Jack and Rose broke their kiss and looked up in astonishment as the iceberg sailed past, blocking out the night sky like a crystalline mountain. Fragments broke off it and crashed down onto the deck, and they had to jump back to avoid flying chunks of ice.

Up in his stateroom, surrounded by piles of blueprints, Thomas Andrews looked up from his notebook at the sound of a cut-crystal light fixture tinkling like a windchime.

He felt the shudder run through the ship, his face falling as he felt the mortal wound of his great ship.

***

Inside the Interior Hold, the two stewards searching for the troublemaking young passengers staggered as the hull buckles in four feet with a sound like the roar of thunder. Like a great sledgehammer beating along outside the ship, the iceberg split the hull plates and the sea poured in, sweeping the helpless stewards off their feet. The icy water swirled around the Renault as the men scrambled fruitlessly for the stairs.

Likewise, in Boiler Room 6, Barret and and his fellow firemen and engineers staggered as they heard the collision. They seen the starboard side of the ship buckle in toward them and are almost swept off their feet by a rush of water coming in about two feet above the floor.

****

On the bridge, high above the beleaguered crew, Murdoch rang watertight door alarm and quicky threw the switch that closes them.

Below, back in Boiler Room 6, Barrett and his men heard the alarms and scrambled through the swirling water to the watertight door between Boiler Rooms 6 and 5. The room was full of hissing water vapor as the cold sea struck the red hot furnaces. Barrett yelled to the stokers scrambling through the door as it came down like a several ton guillotine.

"Go Lads! Go! Go!" Barrett ushered the firemen through, diving through to Boiler Room 5 just before the door closed with an enormous CLANG.

***

"Oy, mate... that was a close shave," said Fleet, turning to Lee in the crow's nest.

Lee took him by the front of his shirt and pushed him back. "Smell ice, can you? _Bleedin' Christ!"_

***

The alarm bells clattered mindlessly, reverberating inside Officer Murdoch's skull.

He was in shock, trying to get a grip on what just happened. _He just ran the biggest ship in history into an iceberg on its maiden voyage._

Murdoch collected himself and turned stiffly to Moody. "Note the time. Enter it in the log."

11:45pm.

Captain Smith rushed out of his cabin onto the bridge, tucking in his shirt.

"What was that, Mr. Murdoch?" Smith demanded.

Murdoch stood rigid as he read his report. "An iceberg, sir. I put her hard a' starboard and run the engines full astern, but it was too close. I tried to port around it, but she hit... and I--"

"Close the emergency doors," Smith orded.

"The doors are closed," Murdoch assured.

Together they rushed out onto the starboard wing, and Murdoch points towards where the iceberg hit.

Smith looked around into the darkness aft, then wheeled around to Fourth Officer Boxhall, who joined them to investigate the damage himself.

"Find the Carpenter and get him to sound the ship," Smith ordered, and Boxhall went on his way.

Captain Smith could only pray the damage wasn't as bad as he feared.


	9. Bad to Worse

**RMS _Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean, Monday, April 15th, 1912, Midnight.**

Down in steerage, Fabrizio and Tommy had to scramble out of their waterlogged compartments and join the crowd of disgruntled steerage men clogging the corridors, heading aft away from the flooding. Many of them had grabbed suitcases and duffel bags, many of which were already soaked.

"If this is the direction the rats are runnin', it's good enough for me," quipped Tommy, noticing the pack of fleeing rats, wet and matted from the flooding seawater.

***

Up on B-Deck, J. Bruce Ismay, dressed in pajamas under a topcoat, hurried down the corridor, headed for the bridge.

An officious steward came along the other direction, getting the few concerned passengers back into their rooms. He had spent much the past half hour assuring them that it was simply a thrown propeller blade that had caused the shudder that had halted the ship.

"There's no cause for alarm," the steward announced. "Please, go back to your rooms."

The steward continued along the corridor until he is stopped in his tracks by Cal, who exited his stateroom as he heard the man approach.

"Please, sir," the steward assured Cal. "There's no emergency--"

"Yes there is, I have been robbed!" Cal rudely disregarded him. "Get the Master at Arms. _Now you moron!"_

_***_

In the bridge's chartroom, Captain Smith studied the commutator device intently, and then turned to Thomas Andrews, who was standing behind him.

"A five degree list in less than ten minutes," noted Smith gravely.

Andrews nodded solemnly, and was about to reply when the ship's carpenter John Hutchinson entered the chatroom behind them, out of breath and clearly unnerved.

"She's making water fast..." Hutchinson gasped. "...in the forepeak tank and the forward holds, in Boiler Room 6."

Ismay then entered the chartroom behind Hutchinson, his movements quick with anger and frustration as he pushed past the carpenter. Smith glanced at Ismay with annoyance.

"Why have we stopped?" Ismay demanded.

"We've struck ice," Smith snapped.

Ismay blinked. "Well, do you think the ship is seriously damaged?"

Smith glared at Ismay. "Excuse me."

Smith pushed past him, with Andrews and Hutchinson in tow.

***

A pair of gentlemen leaned on the forward rail of B-Deck, watching a group of steerage men playing soccer with chunks of ice down on the well deck.

"I guess it's nothing too serious," one gentleman said to the other. "I'm going back to my cabin to read."

Another young man, perhaps a college intellectual, popped through the door wearing a topcoat over pajamas.

"Say, did I miss the fun?" he asked.

Rose and Jack climbed up the steps from the well deck, which were right next to the three men. The men stared as the couple climbed over the locked gate.

A moment later Captain Smith rounded the corner, followed by Andrews and the carpenter Hutchinson. They had come down from the bridge by the outside stairs. The three men, their faces grim, crush right past Jack and Rose. The usually genial Andrews barely glanced at them as he passed.

"Can you shore up?" Smith asked the carpenter.

Hutchinson shook his head as the inspection party goes down the stairs to the well deck."Not unless the pumps get ahead."

"This is bad..." Jack muttered to Rose.

"I think we should tell Mother and Cal," Rose agreed.

"Now it's worse," Jack replied reluctantly, following Rose inside.

***

"Take my hand, Jack," urged Rose as the pair crossed the foyer into the corridor on the way to the Cal's stateroom.

"We've been looking for you miss," Lovejoy sinisterly greeted as he met them in the hallway as they approached.

Rose glared at Lovejoy and Jack gave him a begrudging nod as they walked past him without a word.

Lovejoy followed them and, unseen, moved close behind Jack and smoothly slipped the diamond necklace into the pocket of Jack's overcoat.

The pair soon arrive at the sitting room, where Cal and Ruth were waiting, along with the Master at Arms and the steward Cal dragged into the situation. 

At the sight of Jack, Ruth hugged the robe she was wearing to herself, positively scandalized.

Rose squeezed Jack's hand with both of her's. "Something serious has happened."

"That's right. Two things dear to me have disappeared this evening. Now that _one_ is back..." Cal seemingly agreed, looking from Rose to Jack. "... I have a pretty good idea where to fine the _other_."

Jack and Rose looked at each other in confusion.

Cal gestured to the Master at Arms. "Search him."

"Coat off, mate," ordered the Master at Arms, stepping threateningly up to Jack

The steward pulled at Jack's coat and Jack shook his head in dismay, shrugging out of it as the Master at Arms patted him down.

Rose was incredulous. "Cal, you can't be serious! We're in the middle of an emergency and you--"

"Is this it?" asked the steward as he pulled the Heart of the Ocean out Jack's coat pocket.

"That's it," confirmed Cal.

Rose was stunned. Needless to say, so was Jack.

"This is horseshit!" Jack seethed in indignation as the diamond dangled tauntingly in front of his face as the steward passed the necklace to Cal.

"Right then. Now don't make a fuss," the Master at Arms threatened as he started to handcuff Jack.

"Don't you believe it, Rose. Don't!" Jack begged.

Rose was uncertain. "He couldn't have."

"Of course he could. Easy enough for a professional," Cal shot back, continuing to plant the seeds of doubt in Rose's mind.

Rose remembered standing at the safe, looking in her mirror and meeting Jack's eyes as he stood behind her, watching...

Rose shook her head and cursed herself for even entertaining the possibility of Jack stealing the diamond.

"This is absurd!" denied Rose. "I was with him the whole time."

"Maybe he did it while you were putting your clothes _back on_ , dear," Cal replied coldly.

"Real slick, Cal! They put it in my pocket!" accused Jack as he struggled against his handcuffs.

"Shut up!" snapped Cal.

"It's not even your pocket, is it, son?" Lovejoy interjected as he held open the coat, reading: "Property of A. L. Ryerson."

Lovejoy showed the coat to the Master at Arms as proof. There was a label inside the collar with the owner's name.

"That was reported stolen today," the Master at Arms confirmed.

"I was going to return it! Rose--"Jack reasoned against the mounting doubt.

"An honest thief!" Cal laughed. "We have an honest thief!"

Rose felt utterly betrayed, hurt and confused, shrinking away from him. Jack started desperately shouting to her as Lovejoy and the Master at Arms begin to drag him out into the hall. She couldn't look him in the eye.

"Rose, don't listen to them... I didn't do this!" Jack beseeched as the Master at Arms dragged him away. "You know I didn't! You know me!"

Rose was devastated. Her mother laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as tears welled up, unaware of the self-satisfied smirk that crossed Cal's face.

***

Smith and Andrews came down the steps to the Mail Sorting Room and found the clerks scrambling to pull mail from the racks, furiously hauling wet sacks of mail up from the hold below.

Andrews climbed partway down the stairs to the hold, which was almost full of seawater with sacks of mail floating everywhere. The lights were still on below the surface, casting an eerie glow. He could see the Renault still visible under the water, its brass glinting as it was slowly consumed. Andrews looked down as the water covered his shoe, and scrambles back up the stairs, the situation as dire as he feared.

Minutes later, Captain Smith assembled his officers and the owners of the ship in the chartroom, calculating their next move, and the fates of everyone onboard.

Andrews unrolled a big drawing of the ship across the chartroom table. It was a side elevation, showing all the watertight bulkheads. His hands were shaking as Murdoch and Ismay hovered behind him and the Captain.

"When can we get underway, _dammit_?!" Ismay snapped impatiently.

Smith glared at him and turned his attention to Andrews' drawing. The architect pointed to it for emphasis as he talked.

"Water fourteen feet above the keel in ten minutes... in the forepeak... in all three holds... and in Boiler Room 6..." Andrews began solemnly.

Smith nodded. "That's right."

"Five compartments. She can stay afloat with the first four compartments breached. But not five. Not five. As she goes down by the head the water will spill over the tops of the bulkheads... at E Deck... from one to the next... back and back. There's no stopping it," Andrews continued.

"The pumps--" Smith speculated.

Andrews interrupted him. "The pumps buy you time... but minutes only. From this moment, no matter what we do, _Titanic_ will founder."

Ismay was flabbergasted. "But this ship can't sink!"

"She is made of iron, sir. I assure you, she _can_ ," Andrews retorted gravely. "And she _will_. It is a mathematical certainty."

Smith looked like he had been gut punched. "How much time?"

"An hour, two at most," Andrews replied.

Ismay reeled as his grand dream turned into his worst nightmare.

"And how many aboard, Mr. Murdoch?" asked Smith, fearing the answer he already knew.

"Two thousand two hundred souls aboard, sir," Murdoch replied.

After a few tense seconds, Smith turned to his employer. "I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Ismay."


	10. Ready the Lifeboats!

**RMS Titanic, Atlantic Ocean, Monday, April 15th 1912. After Midnight**

Unaware of the true extent of the damage and dire fate of _Titanic_ , Rose, Cal, and Ruth sat in the sitting room in silence, listening to the loud knocking and chattering voices in the corridor.

Thinking they were next to be visited by the stewards and attendants, and not wanting to be seen in anything but her finest dress, Ruth stood up.

"I had better go dress," she announced, heading toward her suite.

Ruth exited and when Cal seen that she was gone, he crossed the room to Rose, regarding her coldly for a moment before he slapped her hard across the face.

"It is a little slut, isn't it?" Cal berated.

To Rose, Cal's slap and biting words were inconsequential compared to the blow her heart had been given. She was numb. What more could he do to her that was worse than taking Jack away?

"Look at me, you little--" Cal snapped, grabbing her shoulders roughly and shaking her.

There was a loud knock on the door and an urgent voice, interrupting Cal's abuse. The door opened and the steward that Cal roped into his scheme stuck his head in.

"Sir, I've been told to ask you to please put on your lifebelt, and come up to the boat deck," the steward requested.

"Get out," Cal snapped, his hands still gripping Rose's shoulders tightly. "We're busy!"

The steward persisted, and he came in to get the lifebelts down from the top of a dresser.

"I'm sorry about the inconvenience, Mr. Hockley, but it's Captain's orders," apologized the steward. "Please dress warmly, it's quite cold tonight."

Cal narrowed his eyes into slits and gritted his teeth, releasing his grip on Rose.

"Not to worry, miss," the steward assured as he handed a lifebelt to Rose. "I'm sure it's just a precaution."

"This is ridiculous," growled Cal, snatching a lifebelt out of the steward's hands.

In the First Class corridor outside, the stewards were being so polite, so obsequious, that they were conveying no sense of danger whatsoever. However, in steerage below decks, the stewards were a lot less polite.

They pounded on doors, yelled at the passengers, explaining nothing but their need to put their lifebelts on. For those who were heavy sleepers or didn't speak English, well, the incoming flood of water would be all the warning they needed...

***

A couple of hours removed from their handling of the _Californian_ 's ice warnings, Marconi operators Jack Phillips and Harold Bride sat in shocked silence as Captain Smith told them of _Titanic's_ brush with the iceberg, and the urgent need for rescue.

"CQD, sir?" clarified Phillips, mouth agape.

"That's right. The distress call. CQD," Smith ordered. "Tell whoever responds that we are going down by the head and need immediate assistance."

As Smith hurried out, Phillips turned to his partner. "Blimey!" 

"Maybe you ought to try that new distress call... S.O.S," Bride suggested with a slight grin. "It may be our only chance to use it."

Phillips laughed in spite of himself and started sending history's first S.O.S. Dit dit dit, da da da, dit dit dit... over and over.

***

Soon after his grave assessment of _Titanic's_ damage, Thomas Andrews was striding along the boat deck. He anxious to be productive in its evacuation, and watched as seamen and officers scurry to uncover the boats, becoming dismayed as the crew fumble with the davits and the tackle for the "falls"-- the ropes that were used to lower the lifeboats.

Steam was venting from pipes on the funnels overhead, the din horrendous making speech is difficult adding to the crew's level of disorganization.

Adding to Andrews' aggravation was the lack of passengers. The deck was empty except for the crew fumbling with the davits.

"Where are all the passengers?!" demanded Andrews, yelling over the roar of the steam to Chief Officer Henry Wilde for an explanation. 

"They've all gone back inside!" Wilde explained. "Too damn cold and noisy for them!"

Andrews felt like he was in a bad dream. He looked at his pocket watch and headed for the foyer entrance.

***

Inside, away from the bitter cold and noise, a large number of First Class passengers were gathered near the Grand Staircase growing indignant about the confusion with each passing minute.

"What's doing, sonny?" Molly Brown asked a young steward passing by. "You've got us all trussed up and now we're cooling our heels."

"Sorry, ma'am," the young steward replied, backing away, stumbling up the stairs. "Let me go and find out."

A few yards away, in the First Class Lounge, band leader Wallace Hartley assembled some of his bandmates to play the jumpy piano rhythm of "Alexander's Ragtime Band", among other hits, on Captain's orders in order to allay panic.

"It's just the goddamned English doing everything by the book," growled Cal as a passenger bumped into him as they entered the A-Deck foyer, carrying the lifebelts almost as an afterthought.

"There's no need for language, Mr. Hockley," Ruth chided, hardly noticing the death glare Cal gave her.

She turned to Trudy. "Go back and turn the heater on in my room, so it won't be too cold when we get back."

As detached and depressed as Rose felt, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at her mother's out of touch, snotty attitude. She looked away, disgusted, and noticed Thomas Andrews enter the foyer, looking around the magnificent room with the most heartbroken expression.

She could feel in her heart something was amiss, and she went to him. Cal followed, if only to cut off possible escape.

Andrews walked past her to the first couple of steps up the staircase, and Rose took his arm. Andrews turned, his complexion pale.

"I saw the iceberg, Mr. Andrews," Rose intoned, staring into Andrews' soulful eyes. "And I see it in your eyes. Please tell me the truth."

Andrews leaned in close, his voice low and grave. "The ship will sink."

"You're certain?" Rose asked.

"Yes," Andrews replied sadly. "In an hour or so... all this... will be at the bottom of the Atlantic.

Rose covered her mouth with her hands.

"Please tell only who you must, I don't want to be responsible for a panic," Andrews urged. "And get to a boat quickly. Don't wait. You remember what I told you about the boats?"

Rose nodded. "Yes, I understand. Thank you."

She watched Andrews goes off, moving among the passengers, urging them to put on their lifebelts and to get to the boats.

***

Much lower down in the Master at Arms' office, the Master at Arms and Lovejoy were handcuffing Jack to a thick white water pipe as a crewman anxiously rushed in.

"You're wanted by the Purser, sir! Urgently," the crewman blurted.

The Master at Arms glanced at Lovejoy.

"Go on," Lovejoy offered, pulling a pearl-handled Colt .45 automatic revolver from under his coat. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Aye," the Master at Arms nodded and tossed the handcuff key to Lovejoy, then exited with the crewman.

With a smirk to Jack, Lovejoy flipped the key in the air and caught it.

***

Captain Smith stood at the bridge as Junior Wireless Operator Bride was relaying a message to him from the Cunard Liner SS _Carpathia_. 

"Carpathia says they're making seventeen knots," reported. "Full steam for them, sir."

"And she's the only one who's responding?" Smith asked.

"The only one close, sir," Bride explained. "She says they can be here in four hours."

"Four hours?!" Smith blurted. He must have misheard!

The enormity of it hit Smith like a sledgehammer blow. Four hours...

"Thank you, Bride," Smith dismissed him, willing himself to keep his composure for the crew.

Smith turned as Bride exited, and looked out onto the blackness.

"My God."

***

Second Officer Charles Lightoller stood amidst a crowd of uncertain passengers in all states of dress and undress as he had his boats swung out. Some were still in evening dress, others in bathrobes, kimonos, and velvet gowns, topped clashingly with their lifebelts. Some even brought their luggage and pets.

Lightoller saw Captain Smith walking stiffly toward him and quickly went to him, having to yell into the Captain's ear through cupped hands to be heard over the roar of the steam.

"Hadn't we better get the women and children into the boats, sir?" Lightoller pressed.

Smith just nodded to him, a bit abstractly. Lightoller could see in Smith's face that the fire had gone out in him.

Understanding the true urgency of the situation, Lightoller turned to the passengers. "Right! Start the loading! Women and children!"

The appalling din of escaping steam abruptly cut off, leaving a sudden, unearthly silence in which Lightoller's voice echoed.

Filling the void of silence, Wallace Hartly and his band had reassembled just outside the First Class Entrance, port side, near where Lightoller was calling for the boats to be loaded. They strike up a lively and elegant waltz, the music wafting all over the ship.

"Ladies, please," Lightoller insisted. "Step into the boat."

Finally one woman stepped across the gap, into the boat, terrified of the drop to the water far below.

"You watch," a woman in the crowd quipped. "They'll put us off in these silly little boats to freeze, and we'll all be back on board by breakfast."

Over on the starboard side, First Officer Murdoch loaded Boat 7 with twenty-eight people, in a boat made for sixty-five.

"Lower away!" Murdoch ordered. "By the left and right together, steady lads!"

The boat lurched as the falls started to pay out through the pulley blocks. The passengers gasped in terror as the boat descended, swaying and jerking toward the water sixty feet below.

***

Down below in steerage, it was chaos, with stewards pushing their way through narrow corridors clogged with people, luggage, and children. Some were wearing lifebelts, others weren't.

A steward throws up his hand at the sight of a family, loaded down with cases and bags, completely blocking the corridor.

Fabrizio and Tommy pushed past the stewards, going the other way. They reached a huge crowd gathered at the bottom of the main Third Class stairwell. Fabrizio spotted Helga with the rest of her family, standing patiently with suitcases in hand. Fabrizio gave her a hug, his expression worried.

Tommy pushed to where he can see what's holding up the group. There was a steel gate across the top of the stairs, with several stewards and seamen on the other side.

"Stay calm, please," the steward insisted. "It's not time to go up to the boats yet!"

A roar of disapproval from the growing crowd reverberated through the corridors, echoing down the lengthy hallways.

***

Inside the Master at Arms' office, it was silent, save for the sound of Lovejoy putting a bullet on the Master's desk and watching it roll into his palm, over in over as he sat, watching Jack in amusement as the young man struggled against his bonds, staring apprehensively at the water rising up the glass of a porthole.

"You know... I believe this ship may sink," Lovejoy sneered as he stood up and crossed the room to Jack. "I've been asked to give you this small token of our appreciation..."

Lovejoy pressed the muzzle of the gun to Jack's temple, feinting as if he was going to pull the trigger before punching Jack hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"Compliments of Mr. Caledon Hockley," quipped Lovejoy, taking the handcuff key and flipping the handcuff key in the air, catching it and putting it in his pocket.

Jack is left gasping, handcuffed to the pipe as Lovejoy chuckled his way out of the office.

***

At the stairwell rail on the bridge wing, Fourth Officer Boxhall and Quartermaster Rowe light the first distress rocket. It shot into the sky and exploded with a thunderclap over the ship, sending out white starbursts which lit up the entire deck as they fell.

Over on the port side, Second officer Lightoller was loading Boat 6 as Cal and the DeWitt Bukaters looked on. He glared as Cal stepped forward to be boarded.

"Women and children only!" Lightoller ordered. "Sorry sir, no men yet."

Another rocket burst overhead, lighting the crowd. Startled faces turned upward, fear now in their eyes.

Rose watched the farewells taking place right in front of her as they stepped closer to the boat. Husbands and fathers were saying goodbye to wives and children. Lovers and friends parted.

"Come on, you heard the man. Get in the boat, sister," Molly Brown encouraged, getting a reluctant woman to board the boat. 

"Will the lifeboats be seated according to class?" Ruth asked as she prepared to board the boat. "I hope they're not too crowded--"

"Oh, Mother _shut up!_ " Rose snapped, fed up with her mother's attitude, grabbing her by the collar of her coat.

Ruth froze, her mouth open in shock.

"Don't you understand? The water is freezing and there aren't enough boats... not enough by half." Rose explained angrily. "Half the people on this ship are going to die."

 _"Not the better half,"_ Cal sneered coldly.

Rose turned to Cal, staring in disbelief at his crassness.

"You know, it's a pity I didn't keep that drawing," Cal sneered. "It'll be worth a lot more by morning."

Another rocket burst overhead, bathing her face in white light, like a lightbulb going off in her head. The drawing...Jack. Jack was in Third Class. He didn't stand a chance! In that moment, Rose knew she had made a terrible mistake.

"You unimaginable bastard," Rose hissed, vibrating in rage.

"Come on, Ruth, get in the boat," Molly encouraged. "These are the first class seats right up here. That's it."

Molly practically handed Ruth over to Lightoller, who then looked around for some other women who might need a push into the lifeboat.

"Come on, Rose," Molly beckoned invitingly. "You're next, darlin'."

Rose stepped back, shaking her head.

"Rose, get in the boat!" Ruth demanded, panic rising in her voice.

Rose took one last look at her mother, her decision to reunite with Jack made.

"Goodbye, mother," Rose said coldly.

Ruth, standing in the tippy lifeboat, could do nothing as Rose turned on her heels and stalked away. Cal grabbed Rose's arm to stop her but she pulled free and walked away through the crowd. Cal caught up to her and grabbed her again, roughly as she protested against his grip.

"Where are you going? To him? Is that it? To be a whore to a gutter rat?" Cal demanded, incredulous.

"I'd rather be his whore than your wife," Rose hissed, her every word seething with pure hatred.

Cal clenched his jaw and squeezed her arm viciously, pulling her back toward the lifeboat. Rose, unable to defend herself physically against the stronger man, remembered what "the lesser half" had taught her, and spat in Cal's angry face.

Cal was stunned as he wiped the loogie off his face, and he let her go with a curse as she ran into the crowd.

"Lower away!!" Lightoller shouts behind them as the lifeboat begins its descent.

"Rose! ROSE!!" screamed Ruth, urging Rose to come back.

Cal wiped the spit off his face in disgust, watching her as she disappeared from view whole Ruth screamed for a daughter she she would never see again.


	11. Rose to the Rescue

**SS Californian, Atlantic Ocean, Monday, April 15th 1912. 12:45 am**

Ten miles away from the foundering _Titanic_ , apprentice James Gibson stood on the bridge of the SS _Californian_.

The strange ship that came up from the east had not moved for more than an hour, and Gibson studied her with interest. With his glasses he could make out her side lights and a glare of lights on her afterdeck.

At one point he thought the ship was trying to signal the _Californian_ with a Morse lamp, though when he tried to answer with his own lamp, she didn't respond. Gibson soon gave up, deciding the strange ship's masthead light was merely flickering.

Second Officer Herbert Stone, pacing the _Californian_ ’s bridge, also kept his eye on the   
strange mystery ship. At quarter to one he saw a sudden flash of white light burst over the ship, a strange occurrence.

Ten minutes later, Stone and Gibson counted five rockets. Gibson tried his Morse lamp again, and saw yet another rocket fired.

Soon, Stone altered Captain Stanley Lord through the speaking tube to the chart room .

"Are they company signals?" Captain Lord called back.

'‘I don’t know,'’ Stone answered. ''But they appear to me to be white rockets.’'

The captain advised him to continue Morsing, and went to bed for the night.

***

 **RMS _Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean. April 15th, 1912.** **Approx. 1am**

Deep in the bowels of _Titanic_ , trapped in the Master at Arms' office, Jack pulled on the pipe he was handcuffed to with all his strength. It wasn't budging, and compounding his problems, he heard a gurgling sound. Water poured under the door, spreading rapidly across the floor.

"Oh shit!" exclaimed Jack as he climbed up on a table, trying to pull one of his hands out of the cuffs, working until the skin is raw to no avail.

"Help!! Somebody!! Can anybody hear me?!" Jack yelled desperately.

In the flooded corridor, Jack's voice carried faintly through the door, but there was no one to hear it.  
  


***

Upper decks, throughout the First Class corridors, Thomas Andrews was briskly opening and closing stateroom doors, checking that people are out.

"Anyone in here?!" Andrews called before moving on to another stateroom.

"Mr. Andrews, thank God! Where would the Master at Arms take someone under arrest?!" asked Rose as she ran up to him, breathless.

"What?" Andrew's asked incredulously. "You have to get to a boat right away!"

"No! I'll do this with or without your help, sir," Rose shook her head, determined. "But without will take longer."

Andrews sighed, but trusted the young woman to make her own decisions. "Take the elevator to the very bottom, go left, down the crewman's passage, then make a right."

"Bottom, left, right. I have it," Rose replied, mentally reciting it in her head. _Bottom left right...bottom left right...bottom..._

"Hurry, Rose," nodded Andrews, and the architect continued his rounds, ensuring the staterooms were empty.  
  
***

Rushing past passengers that had yet to make it onto the boat deck, Rose rans up as the last elevator operator is closing up his lift to leave.

"Sorry, miss, lifts are closed--" the elevator operator said impatiently.

Acting on pure instinct, Rose grabbed him and shoved him back into the lift.

"I'm through with being polite, godammit!!" Rose snapped. "Now take me down. D-Deck!"

The operator fumbled to close the gate and start the lift.

Through the wrought iron door of the descending elevator car, Rose could see the decks going past. The lift slowed, and suddenly ice water begins to swirl around her legs.

Rose and the operator screamed in surprise, for the elevator car had landed in a foot of freezing water, shocking the hell out of both of them.

Rose clawed the door open and splashed out, hiking up her floor-length skirt so she can move.

"I-I'm going back up!" panicked the elevator operator behind her as he turned the mechanism to ascend back to First Class, abandoning Rose.

Alone in the flooded corridor, Rose looked around.

"Left, crew passage," she muttered to herself, spotting the passage as she slogged through the icy water. The corridor was understandably deserted.

Rose was on her own, but she was determined to focus on the task at hand: finding Jack.

"Right, right... right," Rose repeated like a mantra, splashing down the hall into a cross-corridor with a row of doors on each side.

"Jack?" Rose called out desperately. "Jaaacckk??"

***

Not too far away in the Master at Arms' office, Jack was hopelessly pulling on the thick pipe again, straining until he turned red. He collapsed back on the waterlogged bench, realizing there was no way he was going to make it.

"Jack?" a familiar voice called out. "Jack?!"

Was he hallucinating? Was it the Angel of Death coming to claim his soul?

"ROSE!!" Jack yelled, with nothing to lose. "I'm in here!

In the flooded hallway, Rose heard his voice behind her. She spun around and ran back, locating the door to the office, creating a small wave as she pushed it open.

"Jack, Jack, Jack... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Rose apologized profusely, splashing over to Jack.

Rose put her arms around him the best she could with his arms around the pipe, and kissed him, kissed him hard, for she was worried she'd never see him again.

"That guy Lovejoy put it in my pocket!" Jack explained.

"I know, I know," whimpered Rose, kissing Jack again.

Jack jerked his head toward the drawers in the corner. "See if you can find a key for these. Try those drawers. It's a little brass one."

Rose kissed his face and hugged him again, and then starts to go through the desk.

"So... how did you find out I didn't do it?" Jack asked curiously.

Rose paused.

"I didn't," she replied, turning to look at him. "I just realized I already _knew_."

They shared a look, and then Rose goes back to ransacking the room, searching drawers and cupboards.

"There's no key in here!" Rose sighed, frustrated. She stopped trashing the room, and stood there breathing hard from the cold and the exertion.

They looked around at the water, now almost two feet deep. 

"You have to go for help," Jack declared.

Rose nodded, and splashed towards him for another deep kiss. "I'll be right back."

Rose ran out, looking back at him once from the doorway, and then splashes away.

Jack looked down at the swirling water.

"I'll wait here!" Jack called after her.

***

Rose splashed down the hall to a stairwell going up to the next deck. She climbed the stairs, her long skirt leaving a trail of water like a giant snail.

Rose bounded up the stairs, finding herself in a long corridor, part of the labyrinth of steerage hallways forward. A long groan of stressing metal echoed along the hall as the ship continued to settle. She ran down the hall, unimpeded by the water now.

"Hello? Somebody?!" Rose called, turning a corner and running along another corridor in a daze.

The hall sloped down into water which shimmered and reflected the light. The margin of the water crept toward her like a harbinger of doom.

A man appeared, sending up geysers of spray as he pelted past her without slowing, his eyes crazed in his fight for survival.

"Help me! We need help!" Rose called after him.

The man didn't look back and he rounded a corner in the labyrinth.

Rose leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. This was all like a bad dream.

The hull gonged with terrifying sounds, and the lights flickered and went out, leaving utter darkness. Rose began to hyperventilate, horrorstruck. What if they never come back on?!

Miraculously, the lights flicker back on, and Rose caught her breath, thanking God for the invention of electricity.

Rose looked around, and was relieved when a steward rounded the near corner, his arms full of lifebelts.

He was upset to see someone still in his section, and Rose's relief soon turned to dismay as the steward grabbed her forcefully by the arm, pulling her with him like a wayward child.

"Come on, then, let's get you topside, miss, that's right," the steward directed.

"Wait. Wait! I need your help! There's--" Rose protested, pulling back against the man.

"No need for panic, miss," the steward assured, ignoring her. "Come along!"

"No, let me go!" Rose panicked. "You're going the wrong way!"

But the steward would not listen. And he wouldn't let her go.

"LISTEN!!!" Rose roared in his ear, punching him squarely in the nose when he turned.

Shocked, he let her go and staggered back. "To Hell with you!" 

_See you there!_ Rose thought as the steward ran off, holding his bloody nose. 

Alone again and back to square one, Rose fought the familiar sense of hopeless until she turned and saw a glass case with a fire-axe in it. She broke the glass with a nearby hose and then seized the axe, running back the way she came.  
  
***

Jack had to climb up on a bench to get out of the rising waterline, hugging the waterpipe. Just as he was starting to really worry, Rose waded in, holding an axe above her head.

"Will this work?" she asked.

Jack swallowed. "We'll find out."

Jack positioned the chain connecting the two cuffs, stretching it taut across the steel pipe. The chain was of course very short, and his exposed wrists are on either side of it.

Jack shuddered to think of what would happen if she missed, but their prospects of possibly drowning or freezing to death were equally if not more grim, and he was willing to take his chances with the axe. He knew she too had to be terrified, but he wasn't about to add to her anxiety.

She raised the axe, but Jack stopped her.

"Try a couple practice swings," Jack suggested, sighing a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn't prepared himself for the alternative yet.

Rose nodded and hefted the axe, thunking it into a nearby floating wooden cabinet.

"Now try to hit the same mark again," Jack instructed.

Rose swung the axe hard again and the blade thunked in four inches from the mark.

 _Great_ , thought Jack. But he had to put on a brave face for Rose. "Okay, that's enough practice."

Jack winced, bracing himself as Rose raised the axe. She had to hit a target about an inch wide with all the foce she can muster, with his hands on either side, in freezing, flooding water swirling all around them.

What could go wrong?

"You can do it, Rose," Jack encouraged, trying to stay calm. "Hit it as hard as you can, I trust you."

He _did_ trust her, but Jack still closed his eyes. Little does he know: _So does she_.

The axe came down with a loud _**K-WHANG!**_ against the pipe, and as both hoped, the chain of the handcuffs.

Fearing the worst, Rose gingerly opened her eyes and peeked ... at Jack grinning with two separate cuffs.

They whooped and hollered in celebration, kissing and hugging each other fully.

Rose helped him off the bench as he climbed down into the water next to her. It was so cold that it shocked his system, shortening his breath.

"Shit!" Jack gasped. "Shit! Oh shit!"

They waded out into the hall. Rose started toward the stairs going up, but Jack stopped her. There was only about a foot of the stairwell opening visible.

"Too deep," Jack pointed out. "We gotta find another way out."

***

Outside the sinking ship, unaware of the danger her estranged daughter Rose was in, Ruth DeWitt Bukater sat transfixed by the sight of the dying liner, watching as the gold painted letters TITANIC slipped quietly under the surface as the bowsprit slipped below the waterline.

Another of Boxhall's rockets exploded overhead, illuminating the whole area around the doomed liner, where a half dozen boats spread out from the ship, rowing to safety.

"Now there's somethin' you don't see every day..." Molly Brown muttered.

 ** _CRASH_**! A wooden doorframe splintered and the door burst open under the force of Jack's shoulder. Jack and Rose stumbled through, into the corridor.

A steward, who was herding people along nearby the young couple, marched over.

"Here you! You'll have to pay for that, you know," the steward yelled indignantly. "That's White Star Line property--"

"SHUT UP!" Jack and Rose yelled as they hustled past the dumbfounded steward.

Soon, they joined the steerage stragglers going aft, the corridor almost completely blocked by large families carrying all their luggage.

An Irish woman offered a chilled Rose a blanket to cover herself with, and the woman's husband offered them a swig of liquor from a flask. Rose took a deep swig and handed it to Jack.

Thanking the Irish couple, Jack tried a number of doors and iron gates along the corridor, finding them all locked.

Searching the crowd for a way out, Jack found Fabrizio standing with Helga Dahl and her family

"Fabrizio! Fabri!" Jack called.

Fabrizio turned and saw Jack and Rose pushing through the crowd. When they met, he and Jack hugged like brothers.

"The boats are all going," Farbrizio reported. "There's niente out here!"

"We gotta get up there or we're gonna be gargling saltwater. Where's Tommy?" Jack asked.

Fabrizio pointed over the heads of the solidly packed crowd to the stairwell.

Tommy had his hands on the bars of the steel gate which blocked the head of the stairwell. The crew had opened the gate a foot or so and a few women were squeezing through.

"Women only!" ordered the stewards. "No men. No men!!"

But some terrified men, not understanding English, tried to rush through the gap, forcing the gate open. The crewmen and stewards pushed them back, shoving and punching them back down the stairwell.

"Get back! Get back you lot!" a steward yelled. He turned to the crewmen. "Lock it!!"

The crewmen tried to get the gate closed again, while one of the stewards brandished a small revolver, while another held a fire axe. They locked the gate, and a cry rose up among the crowd, who surged forward, pounding against the steel and shouting in several languages.

"For the love of God, man, there are children down here!" pleaded Tommy. "Let us up, so we can have a chance!"

But at this point, the crewmen were scared. They had let the situation get out of hand, and now they had a mob on their hands. Tommy angrily gave up and pushed his way back through the crowd, going down the stairs. He rejoined Jack, Rose and Fabrizio.

"It's hopeless that way!" cried Tommy.

Jack shrugged. "Well, whatever we're goin' to do, we better do it fast!"

Fabrizio nodded and went to Helga and her family.

Jack knew he was trying to convince them to come with the rest of the group, but a shake of Helga's father's head dashed that notion. Jack gripped Rose's hand tightly as he watched Helga kiss Fabrizio goodbye, and step back to stay with her family.

Jack laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, saying "Let's go".

"I will never forget you," Fabrizio said to Helga, turning to Jack, who led the way out of the crowd. Looking back, Fabrizio saw Helga's face disappear into the crowd.

Jack, Rose, Fabrizio and Tommy pushed past confused passengers, coming upon a narrow stairwell, going up two decks before they are stopped by a small group pressed up against a steel gate, yelling at a scared steward.

"Go to the main stairwell, with everyone else. It'll all get sorted out there," the steward explained.

What was going on? Didn't these people realize what was happening? The ship was sinking! There was women and children here!

Jack tried to appeal to the steward, but the steward wouldn't listen and told him the same thing he told everyone else.

"GODAMMIT! SON OF A BITCH!" Jack roared, exploding in indignant rage, shaking the gate violently. He beckoned Tommy and Fabrizio over to a nearby bench bolted to the floor of the landing, and the three pulled on it until the bolts sheared and it broke free.

"Move aside!" Rose warned, clearing a path up the stairwell when she figured out Jack's plan. "Quickly, move aside!"

Jack and Tommy ran up the steps with the bench and rammed it into the gate with all their strength. The gate ripped loose from its track and fell outward, narrowly missing the steward. Led by Jack, the crowd surged though past the dismayed steward, who earned a knockout punch from Tommy for his troubles.


	12. You Jump, I Jump

**RMS _Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean, Monday, April 15th, 1912, between 1am-1:30am**

Meanwhile on the aft section of the boat deck the action was no less desperate and hectic than in steerage, with the crew and officers' pace of work on the boats-- numbers 9, 11, 13 and 15 on the starboard side, and 10, 12, 14 and 16 on the port side--was more frantic, their previous complacency gone.

Through the chaos and confusion, Cal pushed through the crowd, scanning for Rose. Passengers were yelling over each other, pushing past each other to get to the lifeboat. A woman even grabbed hold of Second Officer Lightoller's arm as he was about to launch Boat 10.

"Will you hold the boat a moment?" she asked. "I have to run back to my room for something--"

Lightoller grabbed her and shoved her bodily into the boat just as Thomas Andrews rushed up to him.

"Why are the boats being launched half full?!" Andrews demanded.

"Not now, Mr. Andrews," Lightoller dismissed haughtily as he stepped past Andrews, helping a seaman clear a snarled fall.

Andrews pointed down angrily at the water. "There! Look! Twenty or so in a boat built for sixty five. And I saw one boat with only twelve. _Twelve_!"

"Well... we were not sure of the weight--" Lightoller countered defensively.

"Rubbish! They were tested in Belfast with the weight of seventy men!" snapped Andrews. "Now fill these boats, Mr. Lightoller. For God's sake, man!"

As Andrews and Lightoller argued, an elderly First Class gentleman by the name of Isador Strauss, co-founder of the Macy's department store, was trying to convince his wife Ida to get into a lifeboat.

"Please, Ida, get into the boat," Isador pleaded.

"No. We've been together for forty years, and where you go, I go," Ida argued, and before Isador could rebuke her, she continued. "Don't argue with me, Isador, you know it does no good!"

Isador looked at his wife with sadness and great love. They embraced gently as Lightoller herded more passengers onto the lifeboat to be lowered away.

Cal Hockley had to look away from the poignant scene. The pair reminded him too much of _his_ fiancee and that gutter rat. He scanned the deck to see Lovejoy hurrying toward him through the aisle connecting the port and starboard sides of the boat deck.

"She's not on the starboard side either," reported Lovejoy.

"We're running out of time. And this strutting martinet..." Cal glanced at Lightoller. "...isn't letting men on at all."

"The one on the other side is letting men in," Lovejoy informed him.

"Then that's our play. But we're still going to need some insurance..." Cal nodded thoughtfully, heading back into the ship. "Come on."

***

Inside he and Rose'ssoon to be doomed suite, Cal opened his safe and reached inside. As Lovejoy watched, he pulls out two banded stacks of bills and then the Heart of the Ocean, putting them in the pocket of his overcoat, locking the safe.

"I make my own luck," Cal said, patting his overcoat.

Lovejoy opened his suit jacket to reveal his holstered .45. "So do I."

***

As Captain Smith paced the bridge rail and looked down to the well deck, he could see the bow slowly submerging into the ocean, the water swirling around the capstans and windlasses on the forcastle deck. He could see two men run across the deck, their feet sending up spray. 

Behind Smith, Boxhall fired another distress rocket as panic began to set in around the remaining boats aft as the officers repeatedly warn men back from the boats. The crowd, a mix of all three classes, pressed in closer.

At Boat 14, Lightoller pulled out his Webley revolver and aims it at a group of several men were trying to rush the boat.

"Keep order here!" Lightoller roared. "Keep order I say! _Or I'll shoot you all like dogs_!"

The men backed down from the threat and Lightoller turned to Fifth Officer Lowe and ordered him to man the boat.

Lowe nodded and stepped inside the boat, hesitantly drawing his own pistol.

"Lower away left and right!" Lowe yelled, and Boat 14 began its descent to the water below.

***

"We're too late!" Cal lamented as he and Lovejoy arrived in time to see Murdoch lowering his last boat on the aft starboard side.

"There are still some boats forward," assured Lovejoy. "Stay with this one... Murdoch. He seems to be quite... _practical_."

In the water below, there was another panic in development. Boat 13, already in the water but still attached to its falls, was pushed aft by the discharge water being pumped out of the ship. It wound up directly under Boat 15, which was coming down right on top of it.

The passengers shouted in panic to the crew above to stop lowering. They were ignored, and some men put their hands up in a futile attempt to keep Boat 15 from crushing them.

Fred Barrett, the stoker who was assigned to Boat 13, got out his pocket knife and leapt to the after falls, climbing over people to cut the aft falls while another crewman cut the forward lines. Boat 13 drifted out from beneath Boat 15 just seconds before it touched the water with a loud slap.

Cal, looking down from the rail, watching the scene with a morbid interest, suddenly heard gunshots as Fifth Officer Lowe, in Boat 14 on the aft port side of A-Deck was firing his gun as a warning to a bunch of men threatening to jump into the boat as it passed the open promenade.

"It's starting to fall apart," Cal intoned gravely from his spot on the starboard side. "We don't have much time."

Cal had to sidestep out of the way as three dogs rushed by for someone has released the pets from the kennels. It was every man, and animal, for themselves. 

Speaking of which...

Cal saw Murdoch turn from the davits of Boat 15 and started speedwalking toward the bow to catch up and fall in beside him.

Murdoch looked at him quizzically as Cal reached for the money in his coat pocket.

"Mr. Murdoch, I'm a businessman, as you know, and I have a business proposition for you."

***

Jack, Rose, and the other steerage passengers burst out onto the boat deck from the crew stairs just aft of the third funnel. They looked at the empty davits in dismay.

"The boats are gone!" Rose exclaimed.

Rose scanned the deck desperately, and saw Colonel Gracie chugging along towards them, escorting two first class ladies.

"Colonel!" Rose called. "Are there any boats left?"

"Yes, miss... there are still a couple of boats all the way forward," Gracie replied, staring at her bedraggled state. "This way, I'll lead you!"

Not waiting for the older gentleman, Jack grabbed Rose's hand and together they sprinted past Gracie, with Tommy and Fabrizio close behind.

"Music to drown by," Tommy quipped as they ran past the First Class band, that was actually still playing. "Now I _know_ I'm in First Class."

***

Water poured like a spillway over the forward railing ]on B-Deck as Murdoch and his team were loading one of the four collapsible boats on the forward-most davits.

The crowd was sparse, with most people still aft. Cal slipped his hand out of the pocket of his overcoat and into the waist pocket of Murdoch's greatcoat, leaving the stacks of bills there.

"So we have an understanding then?" pressed Cal.

Murdoch glared at him, neither outright accepting nor denying the money. Nevertheless, he nodded curtly, if only to be rid of him so he could get back to work.

Cal, satisfied, stepped back. He then found himself waiting next to J. Bruce Ismay. Ismay did not meet his eyes, nor anyone else's. 

"I've found her," Lovejoy reported, jogging up beside Cal. "She's just over on the port side. With _him_."

Cal scowled. Dawson was very lucky indeed. No doubt Rose was involved in that 'luck'.

"Women and children?" Murdoch called into the night. "Any more women and children?"

Murdoch glanced expectantly at Cal. "Any one else, then?"

Cal looked longingly at his boat, his moment had arrived. All he had to do is step inside but...Rose. He was torn between the priority of saving himself and his obligation to the woman, who, despite everything, he still had feelings for.

"God damn it to hell! Come on!" Cal sighed, then he and Lovejoy headed for the port side, taking a short-cut through the bridge.

J. Bruce Ismay saw his oppurtunity, and stepped quickly into Collapsible C. He stared straight ahead, not meeting Murdoch's eyes.

Murdoch stared at the chairman with disdain. These millionaires, looking out only for their self interests. If not Hockley than Ismay...

"Take them down."

***

On the port side, Lightoller was getting people into Boat 2, his pistol firmly in tow. Twenty feet below them, the sea is pouring into the doors and windows of B deck staterooms. They could all hear the roar of water cascading into the ship.

"Women and children, please!" called Lightoller. "Women and children _only!_ Step back, sir!"

Even with Jack's arms wrapped around her, Rose was shivering in the cold. Near her, a woman with two young looked into the eyes of a husband, their father, that she knows she may never see again.

"Goodbye for a little while... only for a little while," the husband beseeched his daughters. "Go with mummy."

The woman stumbled to the boat with the children, hiding her tears from them. Beneath the false good cheer, the man was choked with emotion.

"Hold mummy's hand and be a good girl... that's right," the husband croaked.

Some of the women were stoic, others were overwhelmed by emotion and had to be helped into the boats.

"Please get this to my wife in DeMoines, Iowa," a man said, scribbling a note and handing it to a woman who was about to board.

"You better check out the other side," Jack said to Tommy and Fabrizio, tearing his eyes away from the scene, fearing that he would be the next to say goodbye to his loved one.

They nodded and ran off, searching for a way around the deckhouse.

Jack turned to Rose as Tommy and Fabrizio disappeared from sight.

"I'm not going without you," Rose insisted, knowing what Jack was about to say.

Jack shook his head. "Get in the boat, Rose."

"Yes. _Get in the boat_ , Rose," Cal repeated, coming up through the crowd to meet them.

Rose was shocked to see him and she stepped instinctively to Jack.

Cal looked at her, shivering in her soaked evening dress and plaid blanket.

"My God, look at you," Cal said, casting aside her blanket and tossing it to Jack.

He took off his overcoat and slung it over her shoulders. "Here, put this on."

Rose numbly shrugged into it. She knew he was doing it for modesty, not the cold.

"Quickly, ladies," called Lightoller. "Step into the boat. Hurry, please!"

"Go on," Jack insisted. "I'll get the next one."

"No!" Rose protested, pulling herself even closer to Jack. "Not without you!"

Rose didn't even care that Cal was standing right there. He saw the emotion between Jack and Rose and his jaw clenched with barely contained rage.

He kept his cool though, and he leaned in close to her and said: "There are boats on the other side that are allowing men in. Jack and I can get off safely. _Both_ of us."

Jack glanced at Cal, unsure of what his game was, but if it gave Rose a fighting chance, what choice did he have?

He smiled reassuringly at Rose. "I'll be alright. Hurry up so we can get going... we got our own boat to catch."

Cal nodded, patting her on the back. "Get in... hurry up, it's almost full."

Lightoller grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the boat. Rose reached out for Jack and her fingers brushed his for a moment. She then found herself stepping down into the boat in a trance-like state, as if her limbs were moving on their own.

"Lower away!" Lightoller called, and the boat began to descend.

"You're a good liar," Cal remarked to Jack as they watched Rose in the lowering boat.

"Almost as good as you," Jack replied. "There is no, uh, arrangement, is there?"

"Oh, there is...not that you'll benefit much from it," Cal's Iip curled as he glanced at Jack. "I always win, Jack. One way or another."

Jack looked down at Rose, not wanting to waste a second of his last view of her, not even to wipe the smug look off Cal's smarmy face.

_In Rose's haze, she could see the ropes going through the pulleys as the seamen start to lower. All sound going away... Lightoller was giving orders, his lips moving... but Rose heard only the blood pounding in her ears... a rocket burst above in slow-motion, outlining Jack in a halo of light...She saw his hand trembling, the tears at the corners of his eyes...she was moving farther and farther away from him...this could not be happening! NOOOOO!!!!_

_"_ NO! ROSE!" Jack screamed as Rose suddenly lunged across the women next to her, reaching for the gunwale and climbing it.

Rose hurled herself out of the boat to the rail of the A-Deck promenade, catching it and then scrambling over the rail. Her continued down with out her as she bolted back, determined to find Jack again.

"No Rose! NOOOO!!" roared Jack, spinning from the rail, running for the nearest way down to A-Deck.

He banged through the doors to the foyer and sprinted down the stairs of the Grand Staircase. He saw her coming into A-deck foyer, running toward him, Cal's long coat flying out behind her as she ran.

The lovers met the bottom of the stairs, and collided in an embrace.

"Rose, Rose, you're so stupid, why Rose? Why?!" Jack demanded as he peppered her face with kisses and held her as tight as he can.

"You jump, I jump, right?" Rose replied, tears of joy streaming down her face.

Jack smiled a bittersweet smile. "Right."

Cal too has seen her jump. She was willing to die for this man? This gutter scum?! His rage, so controlled, boiled over to the surface, overwhelming him so completely that it eclipsed all thought.

Cal burst in and ran to the railing. Looking down, he saw them locked in their embrace. Lovejoy came up behind Cal and put a restraining hand on him, but Cal whipped around, grabbing the pistol from Lovejoy's waistcoat holster in one cobra-fast move.

Cal sprinted along the rail and down the stairs. As he reached the landing above them, he raised the gun, screaming in a rage as he fired a round.

The carved cherub at the foot of the center railing exploded like a bomb. Acting fast, Jack pulled Rose toward the stairs going down to the next deck.

Cal fired again, running down the steps toward them. A bullet blew a divet out of the oak panelling behind Jack's head as he pulled Rose down the next flight of stairs.

Cal stepped on the skittering head of the cherub statue and went sprawling over the slick floor like a baby horse, the gun clattering across the marble floor. He got up, reeling, drunk with rage as he retrieved it.

The bottom of the Grand Staircase was flooded several feet deep. Jack and Rose fled down the stairs two at a time and ran straight into the water, fording across the room to where the floor sloped up, until they reached dry footing at the entrance to the dining saloon.

Cal practically leapt down the stairs and saw Jack and Rose splashing through the water toward the dining saloon. He fired Lovejoy's pistol twice, and missed twice, sending up gouts of spray but little else.

Within a few seconds, Cal became aware of the water rising up around his feet and he retreated up the stairs a couple of steps, the woodwork around him groaning and creaking. In his rage, the sinking of the ship almost became an afterthought to him.

"I hope you enjoy your time together!!" Cal roared after the fleeing lovers as they disappeared into the dining saloon.

Lovejoy finally caught up to him, a little out of breath. Cal glared at him and suddenly he remembered something and started to laugh.

"What could possible be funny?" Lovejoy growled.

"I put the diamond in my coat pocket," Cal replied, his voice rising as he gestured towards the dining saloon. "And I put my coat _on her!"_

Lovejoy scowled towards the saloon. "Well sir, there's not much we can do at this point...best we cut our losses and head upper decks, before we miss our boat, hm?"

Cal threw the empty pistol into the water and shoved past Lovejoy, heading for the stairs. "There is no _we_ getting on that boat. It's every man for himself. I suggest you make your own luck, lest you end up joining _them_ at the bottom of the North Atlantic."


	13. Nearer My God to Thee

**RMS Titanic, Atlantic Ocean, Monday April 15th, 1912. Approx. 2am**

Jack and Rose sloshed through the rising water the First Class dining saloon, racing as fast as they could in fear of further retaliation from Cal, Rose's deranged fiancee.

Cutting through the kitchens and hurrying down a stairwell to a lower deck, they waited and listened in silence for a few moments until they were certain they weren't being pursued.

The corridor was awash, about a foot deep. Standing against the wall, about fifty feet away, was a little boy, wailing at the water icy swirling around his little legs.

"We can't leave him," Rose pointed out.

Jack nodded and they leave the promise of escape up the stairwell to run to the child. Jack scooped up the kid and they run back to the stairs but, a torrent of water came pouring down the stairs like rapids, blocking their escape. In seconds the gushing water was much too powerful for them to go against.

"Come on!" Jack yelled.

Charging the other way down the flooding corridor, they blast up spray with each footstep. At the end of the hall are heavy double doors. As Jack approached, them he saw water spraying through the gap between the doors right up to the ceiling. The doors groaned and started to crack under the tons of pressure.

"Back! Go back!!" Jack warned.

Rose pivoted and ran back the way they came, taking a turn into a cross-corridor. A man hurried through the other way. The man saw the boy in Jack's arms and cried out, grabbing him away from Jack and he began cursing at him in Russian.

The man, most likely the boy's father, runs towards the stairwell, and Rose cried out "No! Not that way! Come back!"

The double doors blasted open and a wall of water thundered into the corridor, sweeping away the father and child almost instantly.

Jack and Rose ran as a wave blasted around the corner, foaming from floor to ceiling, shorting out the lights, creating a flashing effect like a lightning storm. As fast and desperately as they ran, the wave gained on them like a locomotive, sweeping them off their feet and slamming them hard against an iron gate like the ones they encountered before.

As incoming debris flowed in behind them, Jack had to pry himself off the gate with effort and latch on to the wall, using the doorways like vertical ladder rungs to propel himself the other way.

"C'mon!" he urged Rose, who was close behind him as he forced himself through the water towards an unflooded stairwell going to the next deck.

As they got closer to the stairwell, Jack pulled himself to the ceiling, using the ceiling pipes like monkey bars to get him closer.

"C'mon! Give me your hand!" he cried, pulling Rose in front of him to the flooding steps of the stairwell, giving her a heaving push on her backside as she grabbed the railings to pull herself up the stairs.

Jack was close behind her, but they were again stopped by yet another locked gate!

"Oh God!" Rose cried as she pushed against the gates.

They looked backwards to the oncoming water, threatening to swallow them whole within seconds.

"HELP!" they cried desperately, shaking the gates as the water pooled at their feet.

A terrified steward standing guard on the landing above turns to run at the sight of the water thundering up the stairs.

"Wait! Wait! Help us! Unlock the gate!" Jack implored.

The steward look back and ran on. The water welled up around Jack and Rose, pouring through the gate and slamming them against it. Within seconds it was up to their waist.

"Help us! Please!" Rose cried.

The steward stopped and looked back. He saw Jack and Rose at the gate, their arms reaching through the grate as the water rushed in around them.

"Bloody 'ell!" The steward muttered, his conscience getting the best of him as he ran back, slogging against the current.

The hapless steward fumbled a key ring from his belt and struggled to unlock the padlock as the water fountained up around them.

"Come on! Come on! Please!" the terrified lovers cried, urging the steward as he went one by one through the keys, shaking profusely.

The lights flicker ominously and a bulb shorts out, showering the steward with parks. He flinched, and dropped the keys into the rising water out of fear.

"I'm sorry!" cried the steward. "I dropped the keys!"

"Wait! PLEASE!" Jack screamed as the steward turned tail and ran back up the stairs.

"Wait please! Don't leave!" Rose pleaded. "No!"

Jack took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air as he dived into the flood to retrieve the fumbled keys, knowing the steward wouldn't return.

He searched blindly around the dark water...searching...searching...until he finally grasped the key ring!

Jack surfaced, and the water was now up to their shoulders. He had no time to lose. "Alright! Which one is it, Rose?!"

"The sharp one!" Rose replied desperately. "Try the sharp one!"

Jack looped his arm through the gates to unlock it from the outside.

"Hurry Jack!" Rose urged.

He was having trouble...it wouldn't fit...Jack cursed in frustration.

"Hurry Jack!" Rose shrieked, becoming more panicked as Jack struggled with the lock.

Almost there...

"HURRY JACK!" Rose was hysterical, desperate as the water rose up past their chins.

Got it! Jack pushed the gate open, allowing Rose to pass in front of him.

The water pressed up near the ceiling, and the two had to duck under the ceiling pipes for air as they traversed the hall to the flooding stairwell the steward abandoned them to.

Finally, the pair, like drowned rats, climbed up the stairs, glad to get out of the freezing water, however temporary.

***

Cal came reeling out of the first class entrance on the starboard side, looking wild-eyed as he lurched down the deck toward the bridge. He could hear the band still playing their Waltzy music, but his ear then picks up the sound of a child crying.

He glanced to his right, a saw a little girl, maybe four or so years old, crying alone in an alcove.

The little girl looked up at Cal beseechingly, but Cal moved on without a glance back, deciding the steerage riff raff wasn't worth his time.

Moving on, Cal reaced a large crowd clustered around Collapsible A just aft of the bridge. He saw Murdoch and a number of crewmen struggling to drag the boat to the davits, with no luck.

Cal pushed forward, trying to signal Murdoch, but the officer ignored him. Nearby, Tommy and Fabrizio were being pushed forward by the crowd behind.

Officer Wilde pushed them back, getting a couple of seamen to help him. He brandished his gun, waving it in the air, yelling for the crowd to stay back.

"Give us a chance to live, you limey bastards!" shouted Tommy.

Murdoch fired his Webley twice in the air and then pointed it at the crowd.

"I'll shoot any man who tries to get past me," Murdoch warned.

Cal stepped up to him. "We had a deal, damn you!"

"Your money can't save you any more than it can save me," Murdoch reached into his greatcoat and tossed Cal's bribe back at him, gun still pointed forward. "Now _GET BACK_!"

A man next to Tommy rushed forward, and Tommy was shoved from behind. Murdoch shot at the first man, only aiming to wound, and in seeing Tommy coming forward, Murdoch reacted on instinct and put a bullet into his chest.

Tommy collapsed, and Fabrizio rushed to grab him, holding him in his arms as his life flowed out over the deck.

Murdoch stared in horror at what he did. He never meant to kill anyone! He only wanted to restore order and save as many as he could.

He hardly registered Fabrizio's curse as he turned to his to his men and saluted. Then he puts the pistol to his temple and before Officer Wilde could stop him... _ **BLAM**_!

He dropped like a puppet with the strings cut and toppled over the edge of the boat deck into the water only a few feet below as the passengers looked on in horror.

With little time to waste, even to mourn, the crew had to rush to get the last few women aboard the boat.

"Any more women or children?!" called Wilde above the confusion.

Cal remembered the little girl crying in the alcove. He scooped her up and ran forward, cradling her in his arms.

"Here's a child!" Cal yelled, forcing his way through the crowd. "I've got a child!"

He turned to Officer Wilde. "Please... I'm all she has in the world."

Wilde nodded curtly and pushed him into the boat. He spinned with his gun, brandishing it in the air to keep the other men back. Cal gets into the boat, holding the little girl. He takes a seat with the women.

"There, there," Cal cooed the child, looking as if it was the last thing he wanted to be doing.

***

Thomas Andrews stood in front of the fireplace of the deserted First Class Smoking Room, staring at the large painting above the mantle, the fire still stoking in the fireplace.

An ashtray fell off a table just as Jack and Rose ran into the room, out of breath and soaked, heading toward the aft revolving door.

Rose stopped, recognizing him.

"Won't you even make a try for it, Mr. Andrews?" Rose asked, seeing that his lifebelt was off, lying on a table.

"I'm sorry that I didn't build you a stronger ship, young Rose," lamented Andrews, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"It's going fast... we've got to keep moving," Jack reminded Rose, pulling her to the door.

"Good luck to you, Rose," Andrews said, picking up his lifebelt and handing it to Rose.

"And to you, Mr. Andrews," Rose replied, hugging him.

Jack nodded to Andrews, and pulled Rose away as they made their way out of the revolving door of the Smoking Room.

***

"Right, that's it then," Wallace Hartley announced to his fellow bandmates as they finish the waltz.

They not their goodbyes and left him, walking forward along the deck. Hartley then put his violin to his chin and bowed the first notes of "Nearer My God to Thee".

One by one the band members turn, hearing the lonely melody.

Without a word, they walked back and took their places. They joined in with Hartley, filling out the sound so that it reached all over the ship, transmuting emotion to music...

...A seaman pulled off his lifebelt and caught up to Captain Smith as he walked to the bridge. He proffered it, but Smith seemed to stare through him like a ghost. Without a word he turned and continued toward the bridge. He entered the enclosed wheelhouse and closed the door. Smith was alone, surrounded by the gleaming brass instruments, himself inwardly collapsing...

...In the First Class Smoking Room, Thomas Andrews stood like a statue at the fireplace. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. He then opened the face of the mantle clock and adjusted it to the correct time: 2:12 a.m. Everything must be correct....

.. Two figures lay side by side, fully clothed, on a bed in a First Class cabin. Elderly Ida and Isador Strauss stared at the ceiling, holding hands like young lovers. Water poured into the room through a doorway, swirling around the bed, and rising fast...

...In Cal's parlor suite, water swirled in from the private promenade deck, submerging Rose's paintings, with Monet's water lillies shimmering as Degas' dancer came to life under the surface...

...A wave traveled up the boat deck as the bridge house sank into the water.

There, Lightoller, with a group of crew and passengers on the port side, was trying to get Collapsible B down from the roof if the Officer's Quarters They slid it down a pair of oars leaned against the deck house.

"Hold it! Hold it!" Lightoller called as the weight of the boat snapped the oars and the boat crashed to the deck, upside down, nearly hitting the passengers.

Collapsible B was then suddenly picked up by the water. Working frantically, the men tried to detach it from the falls so the ship wouldn't drag it under. Colonel Gracie handed Lightoller a pocket knife and he sawed furiously at the ropes as the water swirled around his legs. The boat, still upside down, was swept off the ship. Men started diving in, swimming to stay with it...

..Fabrizio numbly removed the lifebelt from Tommy's body and struggled to put it on as the water rose around him. He then joins the effort in cutting the ropes...

...Cal passed the wailing child to a woman as Collapsible A was hit by a wave as the bow of the ship plunged. It partially swamped the boat, washing it along the deck. Over a hundred passengers were plunged into the freezing water and the area around the boat became a frenzy of splashing, screaming people, with Cal grabbing an oar to push back the ones that tried to climb aboard his collapsible...

...Dressed in his finest with a brandy in hand, Benjamin Guggenheim was prepared to go down with the ship like a gentleman, but was nevertheless shaken as he waited for the end in the form of a creeping wave at the base of the Grand Staircase...

...Wallace Hartley watched the water rolling rapidly up the deck toward them.

As passengers scramble in terror and confusion, he held the last note of the hymn in a sustain, and then lowered his violin.

"Gentlemen, it has been a privilege playing with you tonight."


	14. Death of a Titan

**RMS _Titanic_ , Atlantic Ocean, Monday, April 15th, 1912, Aprox. 1:15am**

Captain Smith stood near the ship's wheel, watching as the black water climbed the windows of the enclosed wheelhouse, the metal groaning like a dying beast. Smith's expression was stricken like the damned, and he inhaled instinctively as the windows suddenly burst and a wall of water edged with shards of glass slammed into Smith as he disappeared in a vortex of foam.

Thus the final minutes of _Titanic_ 's life ticked down, as her captain became one of the many to fall victim to the freezing, uncompromising sea.

Very keen not to become one of those unfortunate victims, Jack and Rose emerged from the Palm Court at aft A-Deck on the port side and ran into the dense, panicking crowd.

Jack pushed his way to the rail and looked at the state of the ship. The bridge was underwater and there was chaos on deck. Jack helped Rose put her lifebelt on. People streamed around them, shouting and pushing.

"We have to stay on the ship as long as possible," Jack decided. "Come on!"

They pushed their way aft through the panicking crowd, clambering over the A-Deck aft rail. Jack came down first, then Rose jumped down behind him, guided down by Jack, where they join a crush of people clawing and scrambling over each other to get down the narrow stairs to the well deck... the only way further aft. 

Seeing that the stairs are impossible, Jack climbed over the B-Deck railing and helped Rose over. He lowered her again, and she fell in a heap. The drunk Baker Joughin, who had been throwing deck chairs of the railing between drafts of hard liquor, happened to be next to her, and he hauled Rose to her feet.

Jack dropped down and the three of them pushed through the crowd across the well deck as people are jumping into the water from the rail.

***

The Grand Staircase hall was flooding as the windows burst, sucking several helpless passengers into the windows. A swimming Fabrizio was nearly sucked into the outside window from the deck like a straw, but managed to free himself from the suction.

He swam to a half-full boat manned by Lightoller, with Cal brandishing an oar, swatting at whomever got too close in fear of the boat being swamped.

Suddenly, the ship groaned and shuddered, and the stay cables along the top of the funnel snapped, and they lashed like steel whips down into the water. Cal watched in a combination of horror and morbid fascination as the funnel toppled from its mounts. Falling like a temple pillar twenty eight feet across, the funnel whomps into the water with a tremendous splash, crushing the helpless people swimming underneath it, including Fabrizio, like the hand of a vengeful god.

Hundreds of tons of water pour down through the thirty foot hole where the funnel stood, thundering down into the belly of the ship. A whirlpool forms, a vortex drawing people in like spiders going down a drain.

***

Jack and Rose struggled to climb the tilting well deck stairs to the poop deck, as hundreds of people were already on the poop deck, and more are pouring up every second. 

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death--" a man ahead of Jack prayed, walking like a zombie.

"You wanna walk a little faster through that valley there, fella?!" Jack snapped, urging the man on.

***

Water continued to roar through the doors and windows of the Grand Staircase hall, cascading down the stairs like white water rapids. John Jacob Astor found himself swept down the marble steps to A-Deck, which was already flooded, a roiling vortex. He grabbed the headless cherub at the bottom of the staircase and wrapped his arms around it, looking up in time to see the thirty foot glass dome overhead explode inward with the wave of water washing over it.

A waterfall of sea water thundered down into the room, mercilessly blasting through the First Class opulence, the walls and doors were splintering like kindling as the water roared down the corridors with exfoliating force.

***

The passengers of Lifeboat Two-- just off the stern--gape in horror as the giant bronze propellers rose out of the water as the bow plunges completely into the ocean. They watch as people jump from the well deck, the poop deck, the gangway doors, some hitting debris in the water and getting hurt or killed from the impact.

Jack and Rose struggled aft on the poop deck as the angle increased. Hundreds of passengers, clinging to every fixed object on deck, huddled on their knees around Father Byles, who had his voice raised in prayer. The doomed passengers were praying with him, sobbing, or just staring at nothing, their minds overcome with dread.

Pulling himself from handhold to handhold, Jack tugged Rose aft along the deck.

They struggled on, pushing through the praying people, eventually making it to the stern rail, right at the base of the flagpole. They gripped the rail, jammed in between other people.

Above the wailing and sobbing, Father Byles' voice carried through the ship, cracking with emotion.

"... _and I saw new Heavens and a new Earth. The former Heavens and the former Earth had passed away and the sea was no longer,"_ Byles said. 

The lights flickered, threatening to go out. Rose gripped Jack as the stern rose into a night sky ablaze with stars.

Rose stared about her at the faces of the doomed. Near them are the Dahl family, clinging together stoically. Helga Dahl looks at her and Jack briefly, and her eyes are infinitely sad. Sad for herself, for her family, for Fabrizio. For everyone.

Rose tore her eyes away from Helga. She saw a young mother next to her, clutching her young son, who was crying in terror.

"Shhh... Don't cry," the mother assured. "It'll be over soon, darling. It'll all be over soon."

Rose couldn't bear to see the terror any longer. She focused on Jack, her shining beacon of hope in the dark and bleak night.

"Jack, this is where we first met!" Rose pointed out, her voice full of love despite the irony of the moment.

Jack kissed her and held her close, vowing to save her now as he saved her before.

" _And God shall wipe every tear from their eyes,"_ Father Byles continued. " _And there shall be no more death or mourning, crying out or pain, for the former world has passed away."_

As the ship tilted further everything not bolted down inside shifted: cupboards burst open in the pantry showering the floor with tons of fine china; a piano slid across the floor of the Third Class Common Room, crashing into a wall, furniture tumbled across the Smoking Room floor.

On the A-Deck promenade, passengers lost their grip on the rails and slid down the wooden deck like a bobsled run, hundreds of feet before they hit the water. Trudy Bolt, Rose's maid, slipped as she struggled along the railing and slid away screaming.

At the stern, the propellers were over a hundred feet out of the water and rising. Panicking people leapt from the poop deck rail and fell screaming, hitting the water like mortar rounds, including a man that hit the bronze hub of the starboard propeller with a sickening smack.

Ruth DeWitt Bukater watched from Boat Six as the Titanic's stern, still brightly lit and reflecting off the dark water, angled up over forty five degrees, her propellers rising still a hundred and fifty feet out of the water. Over a thousand passengers clung to the decks, looking from a distance like a swarm of bees.

The image was utterly shocking, unbelievable, unthinkable to her. Ruth stared at the spectacle, unable to frame it or put it into any proportion.

All Molly Brown could say was "God Almighty," as the great liner's lights began to flicker.

***

In the dark Engine Room, Chief Engineer Bell hung onto a pipe at the master breaker panel. Around him men climbed through tilted cyclopean machines with flashlights.

The Engine Room had become a black hell of breaking pipes, spraying water, and groaning machinery threatening to tear right out of its bedplates, but Bell would not leave his post.

 _ **CLUNK**_. The breakers kicked.

Bell slammed them in again and-- _**WHOOM**_! a blast of light! Something melted and arcing electricity filled the engine room with nightmarish light-- cutting the lights throughout the ship, turning _Titanic_ into a vast black silhouette against the stars.

In Collapsible C, J. Bruce Ismay had his back to the ship, unable to watch the great steamer die. He was catatonic with remorse, his mind overloaded. He could avert his eyes, but he couldn't t block out the sounds of dying people and shrieking machinery, as well as the thunderous cracking that echoed though the night.

Spicer Lovejoy was clutching the railing on the roof of the Officers' Mess, watching in shock and horror as the ship's structure deck split right in front of him. He gaped down into a yawning chasm, seeing straight down into the bowels of the ship, amid a booming concussion like the sound of artillery.

The stay cables on the funnel parted and snapped across the decks like whips, ripping off davits and ventilators. A man was hit by a whipping cable and snatched away. Another cable smashed the rail next to Lovejoy and it ripped free, sending him backwards into the jagged steel maw.

Fires, explosions and sparks light the yawning chasm like the pits of Hell as the hull split down through nine decks to the keel, the sea pouring into the gaping wound.

The stern aft of the ship, almost four hundred feet long, fell back toward the water. On the poop deck, everyone screamed as they felt themselves plummeting. 

Swimming in the water directly under the stern, a few unfortunates shriek as they see the keel coming down on them like an enormous boot heel. The massive stern section fell back almost level, thundering down into the sea, pushing out a mighty wave of displaced water.

Jack and Rose struggled to hold onto the stern rail like a roller coaster as it fell.

In seconds, the ship seemingly righted itself, and some of those praying believed it was salvation.

"We're saved!" several people cried, hopeful.

Jack looked at Rose and grimly shook his head. No, the worst was yet to come. 

Pulled down by the sheer tonnage of the flooded bow, the buoyant stern rapidly tilted up. The terrified passengers felt the rush of ascent as the fantail angled up again. Everyone was clinging to benches, railings, ventilators-- anything to keep from sliding down-- as the stern lifted up and up, past forty-five degrees, then past sixty.

People started to fall, sliding and tumbling. They skidded down the deck, screaming and flailing to grab onto something. In their desperation, they wrenched other people loose and pulled them down as well. There was a pile-up of bodies at the forward rail, and the tragic Dahl family fell one by one.

"We have to move!" Jack instructed, his voice deadly serious. He climbed over the stern rail and reached back for Rose, who clutched on the railing for dear life, terrified to move.

Jack grabbed her hand. "Come on! I've got you!"

Rose nodded at him. Yes, he had her. Just like wouldn't let go before, she trusted he wouldn't let go now.

Jack pulled her over the rail, the irony of the moment not lost on him. _It was the same place he pulled her over the rail two nights earlier, going the other direction_.

Rose got over the railing just as the it was going horizontal and the deck of the ship vertical. Jack pinned his arm across her back, gripping a railing on her side so she wouldn't slip. Just beneath their feet was the gold letters _**TITANIC**_ emblazoned across the stern.

The stern was now straight up in the air, a rumbling black monolith standing against the stars. It hung there like that for a what seemed like an eternity, its buoyancy stable.

Rose laid on the railing, looking down fifteen stories to the boiling sea at the base of the stern section. People near them, who didn't climb over, hung from the railing, their legs dangling over the long drop. They fell one by one, plummeting down the vertical face of the poop deck. Some of them bounce horribly off deck benches and ventilators, one man even striking one of the massive bronze propellers with a sickening crunch as he fell lifeless and broken into the water.

Jack looked to his left and saw Baker Joughin, crouching on the hull, holding onto the railing. It was a surreal moment.

Baker Joughin nodded to him and took another deep draft of liquor. "Helluva night."

The final relentless plunge began as the stern section flooded. High above a hundred feet to the water, Jack and Rose watched as they ride the ship down like an open air elevator.

"Take a deep breath and hold it right before we go into the water. The ship will suck us down. Kick for the surface and keep kicking," Jack instructed, talking clear and fast. "Don't let go of my hand. We're gonna make it Rose. Trust me!"

Rose stared at the water coming up at them, and gripped his hand harder.

Below them, the poop deck was disappearing. The plunge gathered speed, the boiling surface engulfed the docking bridge and then rushed up the last thirty feet.

Finally, the stern descended into the roiling sea, the name _**TITANIC**_ disappeared, and the tiny figures of Jack and Rose vanished under the water.

Where the ship once stood, there was now _nothing_.

Only the black ocean.


	15. Never Let Go

**Atlantic Ocean, Monday, April 15th, 1912, 2:21 am**

"Jack! Jack! Jack!" Rose yelled as she came up to the surface, gasping for air, desperate to find him amongst the churning sea of hundreds of displaced passengers, moaning, trashing and screaming in agony.

She had been holding onto to his hand as tightly as she could just a few moments ago as the ship plunged into the icy North Atlantic, struggling to stay with him, to no avail. The sinking ship caused an undertow, and sucked them both down with it. The current was much too powerful and they were separated.

A man without a lifejacket swam toward her, and in the darkness Rose screamed Jack's name again.

But it wasn't him, but a man who had been pushed past the edge of reason and acted only on pure survival instinct to stay alive. The man looked at Rose with glazed eyes and grabbed her, pushing her underwater, desperate to stay afloat, even if it meant drowning someone.

Horrified, Rose screamed and pushed to the surface, trying to free herself from the insane man. She re-surfaced but was pushed yet again underwater.

Jack saw the man who was drowning Rose. 

"Get off her!" Jack roared. "Get off her!"

Jack grabbed him and punched him hard in the face, knocking him out. The man fell unconscious, and released Rose, and considering the temperature of the water, he probably wouldn't wake up ever again. Jack knew this, and wasted no more time over the man's body. They had to move. They had to get out of the water, and soon.

"Rose, I need you to swim! Swim!" Jack yelled over the screams, urging Rose to move.

Rose dog-paddled behind him, trying to keep her mouth above the freezing water.

"Keep going, Rose! Swim Rose! Come on, you can do it!" Jack pressed. "Swim!"

They both swam in between wailing people, clawing through the water. Rose spotted some debris floating around that looked to be a wooden door with carvings all over it.

"J-Jack, over there." She pointed, and Jack followed her gaze, spotting the door.

They looked around, making sure they wouldn't have to fight for it, and they both swam over to it.

"C-come on R-Rose, g-g-et on," Jack said, pushing Rose up onto the wooden door. 

He attempted to pull himself onto it as well, but it tilted and started to submerge so he let go. He helped Rose back onto the piece of debris and with a slight nod of his head, he resolved to stay in the water and sacrifice his life for her own.

Jack swam around the debris so that he was facing Rose, who was lying on her stomach, and he gripped onto her ice-cold hands. He could at least take solace that she'd be here during his final moments.

"W-What about you?" Rose asked him, worried.

"I'll b-be f-fine. I'm a s-ss-urvivor, r-rem-member?" Jack smiled weakly, trying to hide the true danger of the water from her.

"N-no, J-Jack. There's s-still some room f-for you. You c-can s-s-still get on," Rose insisted.

"I'll push it under, there's j-just enough r-room f-for you," Jack deflected, not wanting to put her life in danger.

"There's a w-w-way we c-can f-fit on it t-together," Rose pressed. "J-Jack, w-we have t-t-t try!"

Rose started crawling backwards slowly to make enough room for Jack.

Jack nodded, and he began to weakly climb and move towards the middle of the piece of wood.

He hugged his knees to his chest to stay warm, as did Rose. They faced each other very closely, as close as they could manage without losing buoyancy. 

"Y-You know, you were right. I didn't think I'd f-fit." Jack stuttered after a few moments, putting his hand on hers.

"Now w-what?" Rose asked him, shivering uncontrollably.

Jack could feel her tremble in his grip and he hated that she was in this situation, a situation where she could freeze to death in this black sea of the damned, surrounded by fear and despair. Just last night, in what would have been the greatest night of his life, he saved her-- or rather she saved herself--from a life trapped inside a gilded cage.

And here she was looking to him to save her again, and he wasn't sure if he could do it. 

If only she had just listened to him and stayed on that lifeboat, at least she'd be safe. She'd have a greater chance of survival.

But of course, once Rose had made up her mind on something, there was no stopping her. He loved that about her. She was so independent and had such a strong fiery spirit inside her. It was why she was on the floating debris with him instead of being in a lifeboat, at least warmer than they were now.

_You jump, I jump, remember?_

"The b-boats will c-come back f-for us, Rose." Jack lied, trying to give her a bit of hope, "Hold on j-just a-a little l-longer, they had to r-row away f-f-from the suction… b-but… now they'll be c-c-oming back."

He kissed her hand and took her other hand in his, rubbing them together to comfort her and help her stay warm.

They drifted under a trillion blazing stars, hoping against hope for salvation as they awaited their doom. As time slowly ticked by, there was less and less noise, and at the moment, all that they could hear were just a few faint screams.

"Return—the boats…!" came one distinctive yell out of the few drifting passengers that remained.

"It's g-getting quiet." Rose pointed out, her voice starting to wear out. She had tried blocking out the haunting screams, but now that it was getting quiet...the growing silence was just as terrifying.

"It's j-just gonna t-take them… a c-couple m-m-minutes to g-get… th-the boats organized." Jack assured, himself gasping for air from the all-consuming cold.

Rose tried to believe him, but even she had her doubts. They've waited too long. She looked over Jack's shoulder and saw Chief Officer Wilde who had been blowing a whistle furiously just a few moments earlier, but now appeared to be peacefully sleeping. Already, the freezing North Atlantic had taken him.

"I d-don't know a-b-bout you b-but…I intend to w-write a… st-strongly worded l-letter to the W-White—Star—Line about all th-this." Jack quipped as he drew out a shivering breath. He gave her a weak smile, hid eyes fluttering in exhaustion.

Rose attempted to smile back at him, but dhe couldn't because her cheeks were so numb.

Jack always tried to lighten the situation, no matter how bad it was. What would she do without him? He had helped her get this far already and was _still_ doing everything he could to comfort her and help her. God, she loved him so much,.

He _had_ to know. It would have to be now or never. She would have to tell him now, because the odds were against them surviving. She may never get the chance again to let him know just how much he meant to her.

"I l-love you, Jack."

At first, Jack was overjoyed that she said those words, words he felt by her actions but nevertheless delighted in hearing.

But then he frowned as he hazily thought about it. Why would Rose feel it important for him to know it right at this moment? She couldn't be giving up, could she?

Jack squeezed her hand and bore into her eyes, making her focus on him.

"D-don't you d-d-do that…" Jack began with all the power that he could manage with his hoarse voice. "D-d-don't you s-say your g-goodbyes… N-not yet… D-do you under-s-stand me?"

"I'm s-so c-cold." Rose shivered, thoughts drifting, she was trying to focus... but the pain...it was like a _thousand knives all over her body_ , just like Jack had warned a couple nights earlier.

"Listen, R-Rose. You're g-gonna g-g-get out of here…" Jack told her, willing her to believe his words. "You're gonna go on… and y-you're g-gonna make… lots of b-babies...and you're g-gonna watch them g-grow… You're gonna d-die an old—an old lady, warm in her b-b-bed."

Jack made her look at him, determined for her to understand. "B-but not here. Not this n-night. N-not like this… D-do you under-s-stand m-m-me?"

Jack swallowed and his freezing throat was aching, like the cold itself was forming a hand around his throat and strangling the life out of him.

Rose herself desperately wanted to believe Jack, but the ideas felt so abstract considering the hopelessness of their reality. She couldn't imagine... she couldn't think of anything else other then how unbearably cold it was.

"I c-can't f-feel my b-b-body," Rose slurred.

"Winning that t-t-ticket, Rose, was th-the—b-best—thing that ever happened to me." Jack gripped her harder now, his intense gaze blazing with conviction.

Rose forced herself to focus.

"It b-brought me t-t-to you…" Jack smiled, his smile warm enough to melt ice..."And I'm th-th-thankful f-for that, Rose… I'm th-thankful."

Rose tried a weak smile. His words meant everything to her. It meant everything that he wouldn't change about the past few days if it meant not knowing her.

"You m-must… y-you m-must…" Jack trembled, shivering from the cold, his lips blue, "You mmust d-do me this honor. You must pr-promise me… that you'll ss-survive. That you won't… g-g-give up…" 

The tears wanted to flow from Roses eyes, but they froze onto her face, and the stifled emotion made her aching throat feel worse than it already did. If was in this much pain and she wasn't even talking, she could only imagine what Jack was going through.

"…N-no matter what-t-t happens… no m-matter how hopeless…" Jack let out painfully with a big breath, "P-p-promise me n-now, Rose… and n-never let go of that p-p-promise."

"…I p-promise…" was the hoarse whisper that was all Rose could manage. 

"N-never let go…" Jack repeated, willing her to take on this mantra.

"I'll never let g-go, J-Jack… I'll n-never let go…"

He seemed satisfied with her answer and closed his eyes. He curled up into a ball on the debris.

"…and n-neither will you," Rosed added with a quivering voice.

Jack blinked and tried to sit up to meet her eyes. He could see her determination that she not only live on, but him too, with her.

"J-Jack… you j-jump, I j-j-jump," Rose reminded him.

"R-right," Jack pressed his forehead to her's and kissed her knuckles. They were getting out of this together, no matter what.

They waited for seemed like an eternity. Every minute that ticked by felt like hours of torture, and they were much too weak at this point to even bother screaming of pain. The sea was as silent as a tomb now, with only only sound that was heard was the gentle lapping of the water against the wooden door. 

Rose turned her head towards the sky, staring off at the starry night sky that mirrored the sea they were drifting on, an ocean of emptiness.

It was ironic, she mused silently to herself...just a couple of nights ago, she had tried to kill herself, but now she was literally struggling to live.

"Come Josephine...in my fly-ing ma-chine…," Rose quietly sung to herself, "and it's up she goes… up she goes… Come Josephine, in… my flying…"

Rose trailed off as she felt a faint light on her face and then like the thunder after lightning, she heard a vague, far away voice. The voice then became clearer and she tilted her head to the side, where the light and the voice was coming from.

"Hello! Can anyone hear me! Is anyone one alive out there! Hello!"

She wondered who it could be. Everybody out here was either dead or damn close to it. Could it be a lifeboat? Had a boat finally come? Were Jack and her saved?

Jack… Rose painfully ripped her brittle hair that was frozen onto the wood so that she could turn her head back to face Jack. 

Rose stared at Jack and saw that he must have dozed off...he looked so peaceful...

"J-Jack," she said as she gently placed her hand on his wrist and shook it.

He didn't stir.

"J-Jack," she continued a little bit louder in her worn out voice, "There's a b-b-boat…"

" _No!_ " her mind screamed. _He couldn't be dead! He had promised her he would survive_! _He must be sleeping!_

Rose shook his arm a little harder this time and to her relief she saw a faint trail of exhalation coming out of his nose, his eyes barely opening as she roused him.

His vision was blurred at first but it started to focus as he saw a bright light from a distance shining onto his face. The immensity of the cold came biting back to him, and he painfully sucked in a deep breath as he blinked open his eyes a little wider and turned his attention towards Rose.

"L-look, there's a b-boat, Jack." Rose croaked, pointing to the direction of the light.

Jack looked to where she was pointing and saw that it really was a boat. He tried to move, but he had nothing left.

"A boat…" he trailed off. 

"Come back! Come back" they tried to yell followed, but their voices were too strangled by the cold and couldn't carry.

Feeling defeated, Jack looked around him for anything that could possibly get the boat's attention, and then he saw a faint metal glint: a whistle frozen to the mouth of the dead Chief Officer Wilde.

"Alright, R-Rose, there's a wh-whistle… in the m-man's m-mouth..." Jack croaked. "C-c'm-mon..."

Rose nodded her head and squeezed her eyes shut as she held tightly onto Jack's hand and prepared for the icy water to penetrate her pores again.

Jack could barely move his limbs, let alone swim, but through sheer willpower her managed to move them just enough to keep his head above the water.

Rose was practically dragging him behind her, and even though she wasn't a very experienced swimmer and was in just as bad of a shape as Jack, she had the advantage of the lifebelt and thus was able to swim with more agility than him.

When they reached the officer, Jack grabbed onto the deck chair that the officer was holding onto and ripped the whistle out of the officer's mouth. He then placed it into his as he blew in it with every breath of air that was left in him.

"Come about!" a voice yelled, swerving the flashlight around towards them.

Jack continued to blow and wouldn't stop until the boat rowed towards them.

"Get them in the boat!" yelled Officer Lowe.

"C'mon miss! It's alright! I've got ya!" assured a crewman as he and a few other crewmen grabbed a hold of Rose from under her arms and hauled her into the boat, quickly laying her down at the bottom of the boat with a warm plaid blanket.

Jack began to fall unconcious onto the deck chair from the effort, and the whistle fell from his lips.

"Get the lad! For the love of God, man, pull him in!" Fifth Officer Lowe ordered the crewmen as they turned their attention towards Jack.

Rose was vaguely aware of a faint thump onto the floor of the lifeboat and the rustle of a blanket, and then everything went black.


	16. The Carpathia

**Lifeboat 14, Atlantic Ocean, Monday, April 15th, 1912. Early Morning**

The sun crept up slowly over the horizon, a new morning many believed they would never see again. Rose was completely wrapped up in the blanket she had been given when she was rescued. She was lying back against the bench in Officer Lowe's lifeboat, beside Jack.

She looked around her and saw that there were only four other people in the boat that were wrapped in blankets like her and Jack. The rest were crew. Behind her boat, were a few lifeboats in the distance, tiny from her vantage point.

 _That can't be right,_ Rose thought, scanning her boat again. _They couldn't have only rescued six out of the water… there were so many-_

Suddenly, Rose heard a loud honking sound, like the sound a ship would make. It sounded like the horn _Titanic_ blew just before it left Southampton, saying goodbye. The sad irony of it all was that it had been destined to say goodbye forever.

There was another blow of a horn. Rose thought her mind was playing cruel tricks on her, that perhaps she was still groggy or even dreaming, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

There were exited and hopeful murmurs from the other boats, and Rose blinked open her eyes again and glanced in the direction where all the pursuing boats were looking. There was a huge ship. It seemed almost as big as the _Titanic_. She read the name written largely on the side of the ship: RMS _Carpathia_.

Rose roused Jack awake, which took a little effort. He looked so pale that she was fearful that he _wouldn't_ wake up, so when he did, Rose was filled with relief, relief that he was alive, relief that they would soon be out of the drifting lifeboat and aboard a safe, warm ship.

The boarding of the Titanic survivors aboard the _Carpathia_ began, and Jack and Rose silently made their way through the curious and horror stricken crowd as crewmen wrapped passed them fresh blankets and cups of hot tea. The whole ship, it seemed-- not just the _Titanic_ survivors--was hit hard from the tragedy. 

They wrapped themselves in the blankets like cloaks. Rose could see a tiny glimpse of her mother scanning around the crowd for her. There was a possibility that even Cal survived. She didn't want either to find her, and she didn't want to face either one of them ever again, so her and Jack went straight down to the third class section of the ship once they reached a clearing in the crowd. 

They made their way over to an unoccupied bench and cautiously sat down on it. Rose sipped her tea and watched as some more _Titanic_ survivors made their way into the Third Class deck area where Jack and Rose were.

It was mostly women with their children on the deck and only but a few men, Jack among them. It was like a mass wake or funeral--some survivors were crying bitterly, others just held blank expressions, numb as if they were just pulled from the icy sea themselves.

They waited a while as the remaining lifeboats boarded, hoping to see some familiar faces from Third Class. Jack hadn't seen Fabrizio or Tommy since the sinking. Where was dear Cora Cartmell and her father?

 _How many perished?_ Were the questions being asked. _How many survived?_

Both physically and emotionally exhausted with so many questions unanswered, Jack and Rose held each other and wept themselves to a dreamless sleep.

***

**RMS _Carpathia_ , Atlantic Ocean, Tuesday April 16th, 1912**

The pair had slept most of the day before, awaking only to eat numbly and hold each other in silence before falling asleep yet again.

The next day however, they had decided to get to know each other a little better. Yes, him saving her from suicide had made them fast friends, and they had shared incredible intimacy and survived insurmountable odds on the night of the sinking, that night to remember, but what did they really _know_ about each other?

Making a sort of makeshift homestead at their bench, they talked the morning away, picking up where they left off just a few days when they strolled the deck of _Titanic_.

Jack was just recounting a misadventure of his teenage years when Rose glanced at a figure that caught her eye a distance away.

Caledon Hockley, looking out of place and uncharacteristically disheveled, strode down the stairs that divided the Third Class area from the First Class area.

Petrified, Rose leaned down quickly below the backboard of the bench. She quickly, but gently, shook Jack by the shoulders to get his attention. 

"Cal's over there," Rose whispered, subtly pointing to the stairs of the Third Class deck, "and I'm most certain he's looking for me..Jack, I can't let him know I'm alive!"

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he sat up and peeked our from behind the backboard of the bench, out of Cal's line of view. He then ducked back down and looked at Rose.

"Okay...I see him. Take your blanket and wrap it around you, covering your hair, like this," Jack cloaked himself with the blanket and then pointed to a nearby deck post. "I'm going to stand over there and keep an eye on him."

Rose nodded her head quickly threw the blanket over herself, careful to hide her flaming red hair.

Jack nodded back to her reassuringly and then casually walked over to lean against the deck post, staring out into the sea, watching Cal out of the corner of his eye as Rose sat on the bench, her own eyes inconspicuously spying Cal.

Rose was nervous, so she tried to make herself as small as possible by hugging her coat and blanket to her body without drawing attention to herself. As she did, she felt something hard clank against her knee. Her eyes went wide.

Cal searched through the crowd, glancing everywhere about him. A steward told him that he wouldn't find any of his people there, but Cal just shrugged him off and ignored him. He was determined to find her, and he figured that if the gutter rat _did_ survive, Rose was undoubtedly with him in the Third Class section.

Cal scanned, and then saw a flash of red: a redheaded woman with somewhat curly hair, standing all alone with his back to him. It had to be her. And she was without that gutter rat. Perfect.

"Rose!" Cal called, running up to the woman, putting his hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

The redheaded woman turned, and Cal saw that it really wasn't Rose. A look of disgust and hopelessness crossed his face and he continued his trudge across the deck.

Jack and Rose continued to watch Cal until he eventually gave up and retreated back to the First Class deck, and relief surged through Rose's body in his absence.

After it was safe, Rose rushed over to the deck post where Jack was standing. He was about to kiss her, but Rose stopped him.

"I don't think he was just after me," Rose speculated.

"Who else would he be after?" Jack asked, confused.

"No who, but _what_ ," Rose replied, reaching into her coat pocket to withdraw the Heart of the Ocean.

Jack's eyes went as wide as the diamond in her fist at the sight of it, and even wider than that when she backed up and tossed the necklace overboard into the North Atlantic.

" _Rose_!" Jack hissed as he watched the necklace sink under the surface until it was out of sight. "What're you doing? We--"

"No!" Rose rounded on him. "No! If we were to sell that diamond...we would owe everything we had after that to Cal!"

Jack sighed. He was unconvinced. "Rose..."

"Owing him anything...it would be unacceptable to me," Rose stared determinedly into his eyes. "When we dock in New York, we make our own luck. Without _his_ help!"

Jack's features softened, and he took her face in his hands. Again, he was amazed by this woman. "This is crazy..."

Rose smiled. "I know. That's why I trust it...you jump..."

Jack smiled back at her. "...I jump."

They kissed once more, again and again, an island of hope in a sea of despair.

 _ **Never Let Go**_. A promise made, a promise they vowed to keep.

***

The _Carpathia_ finally arrived in New York on the evening of Thursday, April 18th, 1912, greeted by over forty thousand people under a heavy rain.

Two investigations into the disaster were held, one held in America the day after the _Carpathia's_ arrival till early May and the other in the United Kingdom from May to July. Many were questioned, including surviving crew like Officers Lightoller, Boxhall, Lowe, and Quartermaster Hichens; lookouts Fleet and Lee; Marconi operator Harold Bride; and notable survivors such as Col. Gracie and the Duff Gordons, among many. Controversially, it was found that despite the inadequacy of the number of lifeboats and the captain's ignorance of the ice warnings, that the sinking of Titanic was ultimately an act of God and thus not one person could take the blame.

Many of the surviving men had their reputation ruined, no more so than White Star Line Chairman J. Bruce Ismay, who was ostracized and vilified the rest of his life..

Others were turned into legends, like Molly Brown, who became known to history as "The Unsinkable Molly Brown" due to her efforts in the evacuation and urging that her lifeboat go back and save more people, which were met with opposition from Quartermaster Hichens, who was fearful that if they went back, the lifeboat would either be pulled down due to suction or the people in the water would swamp the boat in an effort to get in. Eventually, the indomitable Brown threatened to throw him overboard. 

Some died in obscurity, such as one Caledon Hockley, who of course remarried and inherited his millions, but the Crash of 1929 hit his interests hard, and he put a pistol in his mouth, or so it was said.

As for Jack and Rose _Dawson_? As promised, they made their own luck, and went on and got married, had lots and lots of babies, and died an old lady, and an old man, together, warm in their bed, having never let go of the promise they made to each other that fateful night in 1912.

 ** _Never Let Go_**. A promise made, a promise _kept_.


End file.
